


My Boss

by GothicWolf03



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:50:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4989160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothicWolf03/pseuds/GothicWolf03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't know much about AC Syndicate, just following along to the trailers and such, but I'm so excited! Can't wait till the game comes out!</p><p>Anyway, this is the first story that will introduce my main OFC Charlotte Faulkner. I've been working on her background for a long time now--even working on her very own story since summer, yet don't have a title yet, but I promise to upload it once I work on it more.</p><p>In case anyone is wondering, Charlotte is Scottish yet has no noticeable accent (will explain once I have her backstory). My ideal voice actress for her would be Ali Hillis, the voice of Lightning. She is amazing!</p><p>The rest of the characters mentioned that you aren't familiar with are my other made-up characters. Very difficult coming up with suitable names when you have writer's block (thank god for name generators).</p><p>This work is purely from imagination, and I only own my OC character and other made-up ones. Jacob Frye and the rest of the Syndicate cast are the property of Ubisoft.</p><p>Hope you guys enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know much about AC Syndicate, just following along to the trailers and such, but I'm so excited! Can't wait till the game comes out!
> 
> Anyway, this is the first story that will introduce my main OFC Charlotte Faulkner. I've been working on her background for a long time now--even working on her very own story since summer, yet don't have a title yet, but I promise to upload it once I work on it more.
> 
> In case anyone is wondering, Charlotte is Scottish yet has no noticeable accent (will explain once I have her backstory). My ideal voice actress for her would be Ali Hillis, the voice of Lightning. She is amazing!
> 
> The rest of the characters mentioned that you aren't familiar with are my other made-up characters. Very difficult coming up with suitable names when you have writer's block (thank god for name generators).
> 
> This work is purely from imagination, and I only own my OC character and other made-up ones. Jacob Frye and the rest of the Syndicate cast are the property of Ubisoft.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!

“From now on, you all work for us.” The crowd roared, throwing away their branded scarlet jackets into the air as a sign of rebellion, eager to begin their new life that awaited them with their new leaders.

The lone figure of a woman stood out amongst the rowdy people that dug through the pile of strewn clothes on the floor, leaning ever so casually against the brick wall. Her electric blue eyes emotionlessly watched the display as men and women shrugged on their green and yellow articles of clothing over their respective bodies.

A little girl noticed the elder woman peering at her; fisting the clothes in her hand, she bounded towards her raven-haired friend, her blonde curls bouncing with every skip she took. Her arms stretched over to the taller woman, beaming with her bright white smile. “Got some clothes for you.”

The woman briefly gazed at the bundle in the little girl’s hands, a small smirk gracing her usual emotionless face. “Looks too small for me, Milly.”

“Oh.” The blonde girl slowly withdrew her arms towards her frail body, sadly pouting at the realization that the coat was indeed too small for the woman’s long, muscular torso. “Sorry ‘bout that. Maybe I could find more?”

The ice queen shook her head, taking the coat from Milly’s petite hands. “Not to worry.” She shrugged the dark green coat over her shoulders, content that the sleeves fit her arms nicely. It stopped just below the swell of her breasts over the fitted black blouse, though she didn’t mind as she clasped the black buttons over her chest. “Fits quite nicely.”

Milly nodded enthusiastically. “I love it! It could be a new style.” She then handed her the yellow sash, watching as her friend tied the long silken fabric around her waist. “Can you help put mine on?”

The woman kneeled in front of her, taking the small plaid green coat and dressing her. Next, she wound the sash over the loose curls, tying the ends into an intricate bow as if it were a ribbon. “What do you think?”

Her tiny fingers caressed the bow that her friend expertly made, a sparkle in her sapphire eyes. “Wow. Thank you, Charlotte.”

Both of them glanced back to the other comrades who followed their leaders down the street, citizens paving the way for them as they headed towards a tavern. Charlotte felt small fingers weave through her own, squeezing Milly’s hand in reassurance as they trailed not far behind.

Pushing aside the heavy oaken doors, the raven-haired woman surveyed the quaint establishment. Everyone occupied a booth or table, pints of beer spilled as they merrily laughed through the light tune in the tavern. She felt her hand being tugged, and followed Milly to an empty booth all the way in the back as they cozily sat on the plush red cushions.

“Everyone looks so happy,” the blonde replied, her arms folded together. “Where do you suppose our boss went?”

Charlotte shrugged, eyeing the teenage barmaid that began approaching their table. “Don’t know, though I think we can manage without him.”

“Would you like anything to drink, ma’am?”

“Tea would be fine with us.” Unlike most of her cohorts, Charlotte wasn’t too fond of alcoholic beverages, the taste too poignant and bitter for her.

The brunette nodded before disappearing behind the bar area to serve their drinks. Right when the teenager disappeared, a female gang member stood at the end of their table, sneering at them through her fiery curls.

“Well, if it isn’t my least favorite people,” she drawled.

From the corner of her peripheral vision, Charlotte could see Milly shudder further within herself, afraid of the red-head’s snarky comments. “Emily, what brings you here? I wouldn’t peg you for the type to join the Rooks.”

Emily chuckled behind her hand, jade eyes studying them from her freckled face. “Didn’t feel like I earned a livin’ with the Templars. Besides, our boss treats us better than Nora e’er did.”

This came as a surprise to the raven-haired woman, never before had she expected the Irish woman to abandon her faith in Nora with the way she acted as her lapdog. Her light eyes observed her confident stance, trying to dissect any false pretense hidden behind her façade. “Why complain to us?”

“Oh, don’t be such a drab. Anyway, boss is expectin’ all of us to meet ‘em tomorrow at dawn. The meeting place is at Devil’s Acre.”

“Already?”

“Of course. He wants to test our skills, though I could show him a few others,” she slyly purred.

“Whatever.” Charlotte accepted the drinks from the barmaid’s hands, handing the drink over to Milly as the snobby red-head furiously trudged back to her own table after being ignored.

Milly’s eyes continued staring at Emily, cringing as the woman flirted with one of the members, her finger ghosting over the collar of his shirt. “She never changes, does she?”

“Who knows? I have a feeling that she may be hiding something.” Charlotte calmly sipped her tea, eyes locked on Emily with suspicion.

“How come?”

“She’s a devoted supporter of Nora, so there’s no way she would have come here out of her own accord. We need to keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t do anything foolish.”

“Right.” Milly suddenly yawned, rubbing her tired eyes as she finished her beverage. “I’m getting sleepy. Is there a place close by where we can stay?”

“Don’t worry, leave everything to me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real fun begins here ;)

The following day couldn’t have come sooner for Charlotte, training her mind and body almost the entire night for the meeting that was taking place this instant. She managed to book a room for the rest of the week at the Seven Bells, the same tavern where they all dined at last night. She was also glad that Milly managed to befriend the young barmaid they’ve encountered, relieved the blonde girl had a friend to play with whenever she was out busy in town.

Milly merrily skipped alongside her, smiling as usual while her pigtails gleamed underneath the sun like newly spun gold. She still wore the same yellow sash, fashioned like a headband as her bangs fell over her blue eyes. Her green plaid coat was securely wrapped around her body in order to combat the freezing temperature.

Charlotte trailed behind the girl, hands shoved inside the pockets of her black pants. Despite the weather being about thirty degrees, she paraded the streets in a dark green sleeveless vest and a black wife-beater shirt. A yellow sash was double knotted around her bicep, accentuating her lean yet muscular arm. The cold never bothered her, after all, she was born in Scotland, which was much colder than England.

“Look!” Milly stopped in place, pointing at the small crowd of men dressed in the same green and yellow themed style clothes as them. Standing on top of the stairs, dressed fashionably in a leather trench coat and top hat, was their leader.

_Jacob Frye._

Of course they have heard of him; the whole Templar operation practically loathed the assassin order. But the only ones who were able to succeed in their plans without being caught by them were the Frye twins. Rumor has it that the elder twin was impeccable in stealth, while the other was more notorious for his street brawls.

“Stay close to me.” Charlotte held onto Milly, afraid she would lose her in the crowd as they watched their boss in all his prideful glory. She shuddered when his brown eyes stared right at her, though in the sun it seemed green. Maybe hazel?

“Ye finally showed up.” The soft whisper brushed all thoughts of her boss away from her mind, instead Charlotte chose to look at the annoying red-head behind her, wearing a ridiculous bowler hat with a yellow-green sash.

“Not like he started yet. Have you any idea what he might want?” Charlotte inquired.

“Nay, can’t say I do. Just heard rumors of analyzing how we fight, but don’t know how,” she drawled, dreamily staring back at his handsome face. “Sure is quite the looker.”

The raven-haired woman rolled her eyes, no use trying to talk with the bimbo if all that comes out of her was hot air and petty schoolgirl remarks. Diverting her attention, she focused on the man in front of her as he began his speech.

“Rooks, standing before us today are determined new people eager to work for us, to rid the streets of the iron grasp that chokes away the lives of innocent people. Sure, they might dress like us, but can they fight as well? Lads, I’ll let you have your fun with these lot, make sure you rough ‘em up real good. I’ll be watching your every move.” With that, he trotted down the steps, his men close behind him as they all loomed over the newer recruits. “Now, who would be so kind as to step forward?”

“Maybe I should show ‘em what I’m made of. That’ll get ‘em in my good graces,” Emily whispered before strutting her way over to the center of the scene. “I’ll go.”

_What is she thinking?_ The taller woman exasperatedly sighed, putting her hands on her hips as she watched the lanky red-head walk closer to the boss. It was no secret that Emily was one of few Templars that couldn’t fight; the woman had no experience whatsoever defending on her own, preferring to be an informant and sleeping around for her own needs. Not only did she not have the skills for a brawl, but physically she was a toothpick without muscles; going up against these roguish men won’t be an exception, seeing as how their swelling biceps could snap her head in seconds.

It also seemed that the other men were on the same page, as most of them taunted her slender form while some snickered amongst themselves. Jacob briefly glanced at her, and Charlotte could evidently see his doubts swirling within his beautiful brown-green eyes. Meanwhile, Emily only smiled wider, thinking he was enamored with her apparel.

“Arthur! Seems she is your match,” Jacob called out to the red-headed bulky man sitting on the sidewalk.

Emily still had that prideful smirk on her face, unfazed by Arthur’s bulging muscles as he cracked his knuckles before taking his fighting stance. All the other members took several steps back and formed a wide circle, most of them already betting on Arthur before the match even started. Though Charlotte agreed with them; she would bet on the male any day than side with the banshee.

“Alright, fight!” yelled the boss, easily leaping on top of crates to lounge on the wooden surface where he could perfectly see the fight from the shadows.

Emily slowly paced as Arthur started circling around her like a predator, her smirk never wavering as she twirled a finger around her short red curl. “So yer my opponent. Why don’t we skip this nonsense and ‘ave our own fun elsewhere?” she flirted.

Cat calls erupted throughout the ring, yet Arthur didn’t seem perturbed by her innuendo. If anything, her insult only made him frown deeper, as if she wounded his manly pride. “Girly, you wouldn’t survive ‘ere with that kind of attitude. You wanna fit in ‘ere, you earn for it with your fists,” he lowly grumbled.

All color drained from her face once she realized that this is reality, and that the only option of getting out alive was to fight her way through. She nervously brought her fists up to her face, her hands violently trembling as she thickly swallowed.

If she was a kinder person, Charlotte would’ve felt bad for her in another time. But she wasn’t a kind person, and the dark-haired woman impassively watched as Arthur lunged for the nimble young woman. Her icy blue eyes were enchanted by the man’s uppercuts and swift jabs to the ribs, how focused he seemed even with all the shouting that blared from all around them.

It was a madhouse. All the guys acted like animals as they pushed the hapless woman further into the circle when she tried escaping, screeching as Arthur grabbed the back of her shirt and pushed her aside, her hat toppling over in the process. He delivered powerful kicks to her curled body, splatters of blood coughed out of her mouth as she tried gasping for breath.

“Oh no,” Milly muttered, her face retreating into Charlotte’s stomach, hands ghostly white as she tugged her arm. “I can’t watch anymore.”

A deep pang pierced her heart, twisting as if someone had wrenched their hand inside her and crushed her soul to pieces. She didn’t understand why she felt this way; never had she felt any pity towards the ungrateful woman, even when Emily faced Nora’s wrath.

But Charlotte knew better.

Even though Nora was well-known for her brutal tendencies, she had never physically abused her female lackeys in her life, not even Emily—and she was quite infamous for her clumsy actions. Maybe it was because Nora respected her own kind rather than the stupid brutes she puts up with every day, or maybe the other girls were smart enough to not tick her off to the point where they would receive bruises or red scars on their fair skin.

She watched from underneath her thick black hair as the fight slowly died off. Arthur seemed to have a lot of stamina built in every fiber of hair on his body, but he only watched as Emily panted on the floor, covered in dark bruises and blood. Seeing as how she refused to get up, he gave one long, final kick to her face, no doubt breaking her nose in the process, before victoriously putting his hands up into the air as the crowd went wild. Everyone demanded for an encore, their eyes flashing madly as they roamed over her dirtied clothes caked with fresh blood and dirt. When the red-head feebly lifted her pale face towards the crowd, with arms trembling from the weight, Charlotte froze at the hopeless look in her eyes.

Emily was looking straight at her through all the male shouts, mentally pleading for her aid. Tears streamed down her face as she mouthed something that no one saw.

_Help me._

Emily’s face was further shoved into the ground by Arthur’s boot, screaming in agony as her shaking hands had trouble moving, immobilized by the pain. His hands fisted in her short hair, yanking on her fiery locks and delivering another swift uppercut to her face before releasing her paralyzed body, a satisfied grin on his smug face when she started wheezing.

Sneakily gazing up towards the dim light, Charlotte expected their boss to step down and call the fight off, but she only gritted her teeth in anger when he refused to do any of those things. In fact, the corners of his mouth turned upwards from the bloody spectacle.

_The bastard was smiling!_

“Enough of this.” She detached the small girl from her waist, looking at her squarely in the eye. “Milly, I’m counting on you to get Emily out of there.”

“What about you?”

“Someone has to end this. Get her out of there while Arthur has his back turned. Can I count on you?” When the blonde girl quietly nodded, Charlotte pushed her way past the hoard of men, roughly shoving them aside as she made her way into the circle. She could feel _his_ eyes boring through her back, but even his penetrating stare didn’t deter her from protecting the defenseless woman.

Emily’s eyes widened when she saw the raven-haired warrior come closer, sadly smiling in gratitude as Charlotte coolly walked past her with a stoic expression. Milly managed to drag the beaten woman by the arm, soothingly comforting the older woman as the little girl rushed her out of the ring.

The crowd instantly died down, their eyes trained on Charlotte’s poised stature, whispers circling all around along with their confused stares. The red-headed man stood still, slowly revolving in position as his face leveled with her cold stare. Even though she was a woman, something about those Nordic blue eyes sent thousands of needles pricking at his skin.

“What does beating a defenseless woman prove?” Charlotte lowly growled, a whole new level of hostility reflected in her eyes. For a moment, everyone swore the devil himself was leering at Arthur with his golden eyes. “That you’re man enough to get the job done?”

Regaining his voice, Arthur casually shrugged off her comment, a collective smirk spread underneath his bushy moustache. “She’s weak; nothin’ I can’t help with. If she can’t deal with it, she isn’t fit for our gang.” The rest of the men gave their immediate consent, though they refuted in doing anything but continue watching the scene unfold.

“Really? And I take it your imbecile of a boss told you this rule.” Everyone stood quiet, fear evident in their eyes as some of them peered back at the boss’s hiding place, nervous that he would step down and teach her a lesson for calling him out. But nothing happened.

 She moved to the side, still poised and elegant while looking like a warrior in battle as she stared him down through her raised collar. “Why don’t you fight someone your own size?”

At this statement, everyone barraged Arthur with insults just to make his blood boil and force him to throttle her to death, their hands patting his back encouragingly. It worked, for Arthur gave her a nasty, curling sneer before pacing in place, hands at the ready.

Everything happened so fast it was impossible for them to process what had just happened.

Before Arthur could even start throwing delicate punches just to test her strength, Charlotte dashed at him full speed, her waist-length black hair flying behind her as she launched off the soles of her feet and delivered a sharp kick to his face, reeling him back towards the arms of his men with blood fluidly leaking down his nose, and then he dropped onto the ground.

Charlotte cracked her neck, her stern gaze fixed on his heaving body as blood spewed from his mouth. His men tried slapping at his face to wake him up, hoisting his panting body off from the ground when he regained his senses. Seeing her focused, mean look sent him over the edge as he hollered in the air, charging at her in blinding rage that resembled a charging bull.

_Just a little closer_. Watching him about to swing his arm out, she effortlessly pounced on top of his body and into the air, performing a graceful somersault before pushing him down and locking her thighs around his thick neck, sending both of them crashing onto the ground.

A pounding sound resonated in her ears, her veins thickening under pressure as she squeezed his neck, seeing his bald head slightly changing to a pinkish red as he futilely thrashed from her chokehold. The crowd roared even louder than before, so caught up in the fight that they didn’t care about their comrade, or whether or not if he would win the challenge.

Her arms stayed glued to the cobblestone beneath her palms, grunting in pain as she applied more pressure, hoping to end this fight as quickly as she can. Perspiration beaded across her forehead, teeth gritting in pain, her ample chest heaved against the tight material, trying to regulate her breathing.

Charlotte had never felt more alive. As a teen, she had saw the world at its worst when all she held dear were taken from her, never once did she crack from all the pressure placed upon her shoulders. She often took her frustration out on random fights she instigated on her own, sending her enemies into broken state of minds with their teeth missing or even a broken organ or two. She had always sadistically relished the fact that she was the only one to make them suffer at their expense, and her bloodlust only fueled that desire even more as the beast within desperately tried clawing its way out.

She gleefully waited until the thick hands around her ankle started going limp, pleased to be able to stop the fight without any more repercussions. But during her reverie, Arthur’s cry for help had slipped away from her train of thought as a few men started entering the ring themselves. Having no other choice, she uncoiled her legs from the unconscious body before dodging the fist that aimed for her stomach.

Two arms managed to wrap around her from behind, caging her on the spot so that the unknown assailant could deliver punches at her. She growled in defiance, struggling under the weight of both men as the man in front of her punched her jaw.

More punches hammered against her face, causing her to cry out in anguish as she held her ground. Her knees began to go numb, shaking from the impending force that continued beating her to death. Crimson spots colored the dark stone beneath her.

“Charlotte!” Somewhere in the crowd, she could hear Milly’s tearful shout, her eyes closed shut as she pictured the ten-year old’s wet face and puffy red eyes as she helplessly stood in the sidelines. Imagining the same guy who kept beating her try to pummel Milly with his bare hands augmented the hatred in her heart.

Giving a wolfish snarl, Charlotte caught the guy’s fist between her legs, twisting her body so that he slammed onto the jagged stones. Her move also allowed her to gain leverage on the two men holding her arms as she unruly dragged them down and punched them out cold.

Willing a hand to her face, she wasn’t shocked to feel lumpy bruises on her cheeks nor her lip cut open as blood pooled in her mouth. She lapped up the blood on her lips with her tongue, glowering at the cowering man before her. Her hands fisted against the fabric of his shirt, hauling him up until his feet dangled in the air, his pitiful pleas deaf to her ears. She prepared herself for another strike, fist raised while the man’s face turned away.

“Stop!”

* * *

 

If looks could kill, Jacob Frye would’ve been the most unlucky man on earth from having to experience her silent wrath. Her piercing eyes gnawed through his skin, her cool composure so calm yet deadly it rivaled his own brutal persona.

Charlotte observed the meek man in her grasp, bringing his face closer to hers in warning. The man struggled from her dark side, his breath coming out in quick puffs of air.

“The next time I see you or any of your lackeys come near my friends, I won’t hesitate to end your life as I should have done here and now. **Understand**?” Satisfied with his rushed nod, she released the man and kicked him aside, watching him retreat back to his fellow comrades. She then took in the tall, broad figure of her boss, disgusted by how far he let this escapade carry on. She loathed him even more for stopping the fight when his men were brutally injured, but didn’t have the gall to do it when a mere woman, with no fighting skills, took on their beatings for nothing.

_All for a damn initiation._

He was walking closer to her, his face devoid of any emotion, but she could unearth the arrogant aura in him by the way he walked as if he owned the place. She eyed his hands that brushed against his trench coat, the faint metallic light noticeable within his gauntlet.

If she had stayed with the Templars, she would have enjoyed hunting Frye down and eliminating him once and for all, but the fact that she couldn’t lay a finger on him because he was now her boss unnerved her. The Templars were indeed weakening rapidly, making it harder for the minions to raise their families and friends when their lives hung in the balance of the order. She knew what she signed up for once she wore his insignia on her body, but she hadn’t expected any of _this_ to occur.

Charlotte wouldn’t allow him satisfaction as she rebuffed his existence, not a single word uttered to him when he stood dangerously close to her. She still glared him down, crossing her arms to show off her brawny arms. The yellow knot suddenly felt too tight all of a sudden from the heated tension between them, and also the fact that he was insanely attractive. She mentally blamed Emily for insinuating the ridiculous notion to her.

After a minute passed, Jacob was the one to ease the tension by withdrawing his outstretched hand, his shit-eating grin enhancing his chiseled features.

“Welcome to the gang.”

The boisterous cheers were mute to her ears, her eyes widening in disbelief from his audacious move. After all she had worked hard to achieve, he really thought she would abandon her morals and blindly submit to his terms? She had to give him credit; as persistent as he is, Jacob Frye was the most arrogant cad she had the misfortune of ever meeting.

She shocked everyone almost three times today by scorning his ‘friendly’ gesture. Disregarding his approval, she swatted his hand away and walked right past him to where Milly sat with Emily on the side of the road. Looping her arm around Emily’s shoulder while the other supported her waist, Charlotte attentively led the fallen woman away from the area, with Milly skipping right beside them.

“He’s still watching you,” the blonde murmured.

She didn’t halt in her steps, instead choosing to continue down the barren streets as the skies turned gray, her ears faintly hearing the resonating thunder in the sky. Curiosity got the best of her as Charlotte discreetly glanced over her shoulder, venom seeping into her skin as she tried blocking out the image of his haunting eyes, her hands itching to slap off the smug smile off his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to those who commented/kudoed my work (is that even a word?).
> 
> Enjoy! :D

“Ow! That hurts!” Emily seethed as the sterilized washcloth coated over the various lacerations across her skinny arms. Her other hand held onto the cold cloth while she applied it towards the bruises on her face, ice wrapped inside the small bundle to ease the pain.

“Sorry,” Milly replied, being more gentle in her ministrations as she dabbed at the wounds. “Feeling okay, Charlotte?”

The Scottish woman sat on the window sill, her arms wrapped around her leg while she stared out into the pouring rain. Her visage mirrored the opposite side of the looking glass, revealing the reserved little girl with ivory skin and vibrant eyes, the girl who saw the goodness in all things. But she had abandoned her a long time ago.

“Yes,” she calmly replied, no longer feeling the throbbing sensation from before. Most of her injuries had rapidly healed, though a few bruises were still apparent on her face. Her fingers absentmindedly ghosted over her lower lip, rubbing over the rough ridge. _It will take a while to fully recover._

“Charlotte.” She peered behind her, seeing the red-head’s hesitant gaze and her hands uncomfortably clench and unclench while Milly continued treating her injuries.

“I just wanted to say . . . thank ye,” Emily started, shifting in her seat. “Really, I do. Ye could’ve left me there to endure the pain, but ye didn’t when I asked for yer help. I’m grateful.”

Charlotte nodded, climbing down from her spot. “Of course. I know we had our differences, but no one should’ve witnessed what you went through.”

A small, playful smile lighted up Emily’s freckled face for the first time since the fight. “Doesn’t mean I’m goin’ to be nice all of a sudden.”

The raven-haired woman shook her head, crossing her arms in front of her. “Wouldn’t want to ruin all the fun we had,” she softly smirked before turning serious. “If you like, I can teach you how to fight. Someone has to teach you how to defend yourself.”

Emily snorted. “Thanks, but fightin’ isn’t somethin’ I’d want to experience e’er again. Rather carry a weapon than use my fists.”

“As long as you know how to use it well. If you ever need anything, feel free to ask.”

“Wait!” Emily thanked Milly before hoisting herself up, whimpering as she trudged towards her associate before she got the chance to leave the room, lowering the ice pack from her face. “Why . . . why did ye join the Rooks?”

Why did she? At first, Charlotte had specifically told herself that this was the only option in protecting Milly, seeing as how the Templars were too weak to protect any of them. Maybe deep down she had fooled herself—she wasn’t entirely sure—but either way she wouldn’t regret any of her actions unless their new boss gave her the benefit of the doubt. From today’s events, her thoughts strayed to her former boss, thinking it might have been wise if she had stayed with Nora.

“To protect Milly. To protect all of us,” the dark-haired woman firmly stated, narrowing her gaze at the red-head. “Why ask?”

Emily took a deep breath, hitting the end of the bedpost with the palm of her hand. “I wasn’t too sure at first; everyone seemed content with this new lifestyle, and I thought ye would be one of them to forget our cause. I can see that I was wrong, and I’m sorry. Anyway, Nora tasked me to keep an eye out for the Frye fellow by reportin’ back to ‘er and—”

“Wait.” Charlotte interrupted the Irish woman, checking from the doorway to see if anyone was eavesdropping or walking by their room. Her nervousness faded away as she shut the door, preventing anyone from listening in. “So, you’ve been contacting Nora. Guessing this has to do with regaining Templar control back in London. Has she said anything?”

“Aye, just to write back on all that we’re doin’, what the assassins are plannin’ and such.”

“How’d you manage to do that?” Milly asked, cleansing the soiled rag in the washbin.

“I’ve ‘ad visitors in the bar disguised as normal citizens so as to prevent any suspicion. However, I can’t do this alone. I need yer help.”

Charlotte and Milly exchanged knowing looks, a frown marring their faces from the risky task at hand. The blonde girl released the moist rag from her petite fingers, coming closer to the other woman. “What can I do?”

“Milly, I don’t think—”

“Please Charlotte?” Her dark blue eyes held her gaze, looking so determined that the elder woman cut off her train of thought as she intently listened to what she had to say. “I want to help out. I feel like a useless kid who can’t fight; I want to feel like I matter to this operation.”

“You’re not useless. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Not to worry,” Emily piped in, sitting on the edge of the bed, grimacing as she bent down. “She’s friends with the barmaid, right? I bet she’s an informant to the cause. All Milly needs to do is subtly persuade the girl to slip up information.”

“Yes, but what happens if she suspects Milly?”

“She won’t, so long as there are other people present ‘round them. That way anyone could be a suspect in her eyes.”

Charlotte rubbed her chin in thought, pondering over their secret plan. It seemed full-proof; with their combined efforts they could manage to overthrow the assassins for good, just so long as they don’t screw anything up. _The moment someone starts noticing, we’ll have no choice but to abandon our cause._

“Alright,” she consented. “Make sure to contact Nora, tell her we are also involved.”

“Gotcha. And for ye, I need ye to get closer to the boss.”

Charlotte blinked from the sudden request. “Closer, how?”

“I’d recommend bein’ intimate with him.” Emily cowered from the woman’s glowering death stare, awkwardly glancing back at Milly’s bright red face before bravely facing the Scottish woman. “I’m just sayin’! Ye don’t ‘ave to, but men usually squeal when they’re either drunk or intimate with a woman. He’s interested in ye, that’s for sure.”

“Really?” Charlotte replied in disbelief. “Because I’m pretty sure he hates my guts, though he does a good deal in hiding it.”

Emily exasperatedly sighed, placing her head on the palm of her hand in wonder. “Sometimes I think you’ve ne’er been with a man. Don’t think anyone knows, but I see the way he looks at ye. Use it to our advantage.”

“. . . You have a point. I’ll try to gain his absolute trust, but that’s it. The moment we don’t need him anymore, I’ll be sure to end his life.”

A furtive knock softly rapped on the door, stopping the conversation from going any further. Charlotte opened the door aside, surprised to see the barmaid from before standing in front of her. The teenager flattened out her wrinkled apron, timidly putting her clasped hands in front of her. “Miss Charlotte?”

“Yes?”

“Jacob would like to see you immediately. He’s over at Thistle & Crown, just on the other side of town.”

“Alright. Thank you.” The dark-haired woman watched as the teenager exited the hallway, peering over the stairs to make sure the girl’s brown hair disappeared from sight. Charlotte rummaged through the drawers of the vanity, taking out various knives and her pistols before securing them in their respective holsters. Putting on a long black coat, she sternly eyed her former friends. “Stay safe, and be cautious of anyone who passes by. I’ll be back soon.”

* * *

She was escorted by two other gang members upstairs where Jacob would be waiting for her. Charlotte didn’t say anything, obediently climbing the wooden steps in between the burly men. She found it unnecessary that Jacob would send bodyguards to meet up with him, unless . . .

 _Unless he suspects that I’m still working for Nora_. _I’ll have to convince him otherwise._

Opening the door, the henchmen gestured for her to enter the abode. Charlotte skeptically peered at them before reluctantly striding further into the deafening silence of the room, hearing their footsteps follow closely behind her.

He stood with his back turned to her, an arm casually slung over the low-hanging ceiling of the window. When his hazel eyes gazed upon her reflection on the glass pane, Jacob turned around and ventured closer to her, nodding to his minions. “I’ll take it from here, lads.”

The Rook members nodded, their eyes landing on the dark-haired woman before exiting, leaving the two to mentally assess one another. She saw his eyes intently observing the multiple wounds scattered on her face, though she wasn't fazed by his intruding gaze.

“Why am I here?” the woman inquired, her fingers brushing against her sides where her twin pistols were secured in their respective straps.

“Calm down, love. No reason why we can’t have a reasonable chat without blood being spilt.” He smirked, gesturing towards the empty wooden chair in front of the table.

Charlotte silently sat poised on the chair, spine straight and elongated as her eyes locked onto the taller man who sat across from her, his body straddling the chair from the opposite side like a ruffian.

He rubbed his stubble in thought, his brown-green eyes roaming over her composed features. “I’m curious, why did you join the other side? Thought you would enjoy slaughtering a handsome devil like myself.”

 _You have no idea._ She excluded the ‘handsome devil’ part, though she wouldn’t mind jabbing a sharp object through his thick neck. She coolly leveled his gaze. “To protect my friends.”

Jacob shrugged, seemingly pleased with her answer. “Alright.” He flicked open his hidden blade, the sharp object fluidly sliding from its sheath, causing the raven-haired beauty to withdraw her pistols and aim them at his head in under a second. He deeply chuckled from her violent display. “Don’t trust me?”

“No,” she bluntly replied.

“You’re cautious; I respect that.” He inspected the metallic blade in the faint light of the flickering candle, casting an eerie glow that reflected in her eyes. “Although, there seems to be a problem.”

“And what’s that?”

Before she could blink, Jacob had reached across the table and disarmed her pistols before grasping onto the collar of her shirt. He pushed her closer to his chest, his stubble ghostly grazing her cheeks as he breathed in her face, the cool metal blade circling over her throat. “I’m gonna have to kill you now if you refuse my invitation again. This is your last chance. Join me, join the Rooks if you claim what you say is true. If not, then I’ll know you’re still operating with the Templars.”

Charlotte mused over his offer, a small voice inside of her egging her to beat him to a senseless pulp—screw the Rooks and hand him over to Nora already. But she had made a promise to help Emily and Milly, and she wasn’t foolish to endanger their very lives. He knew who they were; no doubt he would come after them next should she do anything rash.

“Fine,” she said. “But only if you allow my friends to join as well, so I can keep a close eye on them.”

“I’m sure I can arrange something.” He let go of her shirt, withdrawing his hidden blade, though he remained standing. “But first, a field test.”

“What?”

“No offense love, I’m thrilled to have you on board, but there’s this nagging feeling inside of me that still doesn’t trust you. In all fairness, you could be lying. To prove that you aren’t, you’ll have to kill a Templar.”

 _This doesn’t sound good._ She prayed he wouldn’t have her execute Bloody Nora; she had agreed to aid Nora in following the Frye fellow, and the last thing she needed was assassinating her just to prove her worth. And worst of all, as much as she hated to admit, Charlotte knew she would hesitate, and any paused actions detected by Jacob will automatically have her dead in seconds.

“Who?” she softly asked.

“Pearl Attaway.” Charlotte breathed a small sigh of relief; at least she would kill someone she didn’t like. “And don’t forget, I’ll be watching your every move.”


	4. Chapter 4

Various steamships dispersed throughout the docks, their incessant horns wailing in the night sky. Sailormen were too busy unloading cargo into the storehouses, shouting orders to the small orphan children that were helping out.

Charlotte surveyed the area around her, trying to spot the familiar magenta gown amidst the dirtied men in the crowd. Her thick black hair was tied in a loose pleated braid that draped over her shoulder, the fabric of her coat billowing in the breeze as the salty aroma wafted through her nose.

She savored the smell, pondering over the sea back home in her native country. If she had it her way, Charlotte would have returned to the lush green landscapes and deep forests instead of wasting every minute in the bustle of the city, where odors of the factories disturbed her tranquil state of mind. But she was needed here in London with the Order, and she vowed to never return until the assassins were fully eradicated.

 _Thirty minutes._ He had given her about half an hour to scout the area for Attaway, and then escape undetected once she was successful. If she took too long, he would become dubious and fetch her for himself, something that she was distasteful about.

“There,” she murmured, eyes trained on the enormous fabric of the vibrant dress that made its way across the shipyard. Pushing the collar closer to her chin, Charlotte jumped off the roof, leaping from wall to wall until she landed safely on the ground, hiding behind a wooden crate as a man approached in front of her.

Peeking from her hiding place, Charlotte bit back a groan as she watched Pearl enter one of the warehouses, her men sealing the prodigious doors shut so as not to let any intruder inside. She had hoped her mission would go smoothly, but even she knew nothing was ever so simple, especially the paranoia that was buried deep within the Templars’ minds.

_I need to find another way._

Making sure the coast was clear, the raven-haired woman dashed across the threshold, effectively slowing her movements so as to blend in with the crowd. It worked, for no one bothered to notice a stranger lurking about as they continued minding their own business with the shipments.

As she drew closer and closer to the warehouse Pearl had disappeared in, Charlotte reached inside her coat to retrieve her throwing knives, narrowed eyes targeting the group of men animatedly dealing cards amongst themselves by the side door. Before she could release a knife into one of their throats, she noticed a lone sniper standing on the building across from the warehouse.

 _Take him out first, then move on._ Finding her strength, she swiftly threw the blade across the night sky as it swished past her head and successfully notching through the sniper’s throat, the red-coat enemy gurgling before plummeting to the ground.

“Oi! Who goes there?” One of the men from the group heard the body splatter onto the ground, gesturing for his men to follow as they went to investigate the strange noise.

Charlotte walked across the inclined ramp, hands clutching onto the door handle as she entered the dark warehouse, silently closing the door behind her before inspecting her surroundings. It was hard detecting the bodies since the area was almost pitch black, with few lighted lanterns here and there, but as far as she was concerned, Pearl was nowhere in sight. However, she noticed one of the henchmen climb up the stairs leading to another door, lightly knocking twice so as not to disturb anyone inside.

“She has to be through there,” Charlotte replied. “I need to get to higher ground and see what I’m dealing with.”

Her eyes lined the gigantic crates stacked on top of each other, leveling her eyes across the various support beams high across the ceiling, delighted that they managed to reach on top of the restricted area beyond the door. Placing her hands on the edges, the Scottish woman easily hoisted herself up, carefully putting her feet on top of the miniscule edge before climbing the rest of the crate tower.

Jumping up, her fingers wrapped around a low-hanging beam, grunting as she pulled her whole weight up and wrapped her legs around the platform. She made her way towards the center of the beam crouching, stopping so that she could pinpoint the guards.

 _She really is paranoid,_ she mused. _Seven guards in each area, total of twenty-one._ _Best keep going and not cause any commotion. Time is of the essence._

It was fairly easy for her to sneak by undetected—no one ever looks above them anyhow. In less than a few minutes, Charlotte was able to hide in the shadows above the open office where Pearl conversed with a guard.

“Just tell Starrick that I do not need any more security. This warehouse is already safe as it is,” she demanded, sipping from her diamond-encrusted wine goblet.

“But ma’am, Starrick insists—”

She slammed the glass against the surface of the table, ceasing the man’s excuses. “I don’t care. Did I or did I not give you an order?”

“Yes ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.” The henchman tremulously bowed before exiting the office, slamming the door behind him.

Pearl rubbed her forehead, getting up from her chair with the wine glass as she made her way towards the far side of the office, staring out into the window at the sailors loading the cargo onto the ships.

Charlotte noiselessly landed onto the wooden floor, her arm reaching behind to lock the door behind her so as to prevent anyone from coming in. Her fingers grazed over the long metallic blade in her coat, taking it out and hiding it behind her waist as she stalked closer to the frowning woman.

“Rough night?” she lowly replied.

Pearl jumped from the foreign voice behind her, but upon seeing who it was she relaxed a bit, though her shoulders were still tense when she eyed the green tie she wore around her waist. “Charlotte, was it? You were one of Nora’s lackeys. Funny, I expected Mr. Frye to kill me off, not you.”

The raven-haired woman furrowed her brows, cautiously circling the other woman as she strayed away from the window. “Why would you be waiting for him?”

_Something’s off. She seems familiarized with Jacob. How?_

Pearl shrugged, moving closer to the mahogany desk to let her finger sinfully trail over the edge. “We were merely discussing a partnership. I haven’t heard from him in a few weeks, so I knew he must’ve discovered who I was, _what_ I am.”

Light blue eyes widened as Pearl made a run for the lever, wasting no time in throwing the knife just as the female socialite made a grab for the wooden object. The brunette released a loud scream, sobbing as the knife deeply embedded itself into her hand, which was just a few inches away from her desired destination. Blood gushed out from the open wound, making the Templar wince from the pain as she tried taking the weapon out, only to cry louder as it kept moving inside her broken limb.

Her loud outburst had alerted the guards, a few of them pounding on the locked door in alarm. “Ms. Attaway! What’s going on?”

Charlotte reached Pearl in just a few short strides, savagely yanking out the weapon as the Templar collapsed onto the floor in a heaving mess with her bloodied hand inside the fabric of her dress. The impassive woman yanked Pearl by the hair, throwing her onto a chair and tying her with the coiled rope lying beside her. She made a triple knot over the woman’s chest, giving no ounce of sympathy to the struggling woman.

“You won’t get away with this!” she futilely cried, thrashing about in her dark pink petticoats. “My cousin will come after you once he hears about this. Nora will be executed for plotting against us.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Incessant banging against the door told Charlotte that she had very little time before Pearl’s men come rushing in here and kill her. She quickly looked around the room, biting her lip when she found no other escape route as the office only had one door.

_The window . . ._

“No, wait! Stop, what are you doing?” Pearl’s eyes widened, steering her vision clear from the approaching window and instead pleading to her captor. “I’ll do anything! I won’t tell, just don’t!”

“Hope you’re not afraid of heights,” was all Charlotte said before hiding behind Pearl’s form, using the woman as a charging tool as she smashed against the window at full speed.

Glass broke around her, the air smacking against her face at high velocity as they fell hundreds of feet towards the ground.

* * *

 

She moaned from the pain, hands feebly coming in front of her as her vision tried adjusting to the concrete below her. Charlotte rubbed her head, slowly getting up and dusting off small shards of glass from her clothes. Despite the tiny cuts on her legs and the ache in her back, she managed to take minimum damage from the fall.

 _This isn’t the ground._ Realizing that she had landed on top of a roof, Charlotte got worried when she couldn’t find Pearl’s body anywhere. When she leaned towards the edge, all her doubts ceased as her gaze lingered on the lifeless body on the ground several feet below, glass shards protruding from the corpse and blood soiling her expensive dress. _We must have separated._

Seeing a crowd form around the lifeless body, Charlotte took the time to vanish from the scene, slightly limping her way inland and away from curious eyes. It was difficult climbing down the roof, her muscles practically crying out from the numbness as she tried flexing them down the way, but with effort she made it on the ground in one peace.

She stilled when she heard the ominous chime of the clock, realization dawning onto her that her time was up.

_Dammit, he’ll come looking for me._

Regaining strength in her body, Charlotte quickly made a run for it, leaving the area as quickly as possible. She ran past pillars, her head looking both ways as she strolled onto the barren streets. When she entered an alleyway, a rough hand snatched her by the arm, slamming her against the brick wall. She slashed her knife the same time the stranger snagged her arm, hearing the blade swipe as strands of blonde hair fell down onto the dirtied ground.

“Charlotte, calm down!”

She thought her mind was playing tricks on her after hearing that familiar voice. Peering to the side, she looked where the moonlight was penetrating the man’s face, noticing the familiar ocean green eyes and curly locks. “Gregory?”

“Dammit, I thought something happened to you.” The elder male hugged her, instantly letting go when he felt her wince underneath him. “Good god, why are you wounded?”

“Just a minor mishap. Look, its nice seeing you again, but I’m being followed.”

“Wait.” Gregory gripped her again to prevent her from leaving, glancing behind them to see a shadow leaping on the rooftops closer to them. He led her further into the alleyway, concealing their forms underneath the wooden stairs of an apartment. “He won’t find us here yet. Mind explaining what the hell is going on? I haven’t seen you nor Emily since the gang fight.”

She noticed him eyeing the green sash around her waist, apprehension disfiguring his defined features from the symbolic item. Before he could question her, she had placed a hand over his mouth, knife disarming the gun he had tried reaching from his trousers. “I don’t want to fight you, Gregory. All I can tell you is that the others are safe; we are infiltrating Frye’s gang and exploiting his plan to Nora. I can’t do this unless he has my absolute trust.”

“And by absolute trust you mean . . .” he stated once she let her hand fall to her side.

Charlotte sighed, glancing around to make sure they were alone. “I assassinated Pearl earlier.”

There was a pregnant silence between them; no sense of astonishment was hidden beneath his blue-green eyes as he ran a hand through his unruly curls, digesting the news bit by bit. “Well, at least that takes Pearl off of Nora’s list. Although, there are others like Brewster and Elliotson who support Nora. Does he expect you to kill them off too?”

“I doubt it,” she confirmed. “This was just a test, to see if I would actually go through with it.”

Gregory nodded, casually leaning against the stone wall. “Just be careful. It’ll be bloody mad if you go off killing our allies.”

“Don’t worry. Jacob is too proud to let anyone take his kills.”

“. . . How’s Emily?”

Charlotte raised a brow from his sudden shift in attitude, one moment he seems condescending and the next he reverts back to a worrisome fool. She wondered if the blonde man had any feelings towards the red-headed Irishwoman, automatically confirming that he does whenever she thought about their awkward conversations together.

“Annoying as ever, but she’s holding on,” she almost smirked from his threatening expression. “She just got injured from a gang fight, though she’s recovering nicely. Milly is taking care of her.”

He thickly swallowed. “You better kill Frye quickly because I’d hate to be him if I ever got a hold of his sorry arse.”

They emerged from the shadows, Gregory picking up his discarded pistol before standing underneath the moonlight. He shook her hand before embracing her one last time, jaw tightly locked as he stared at the assassin that watched their exchange from across the street. His curly locks brushed against her thick black hair, feeling her muscle tense from the sudden intimate action. He whispered, “He’s watching us. I better go.”

“You’re kidding me,” she retorted. “How will I explain this?”

He playfully smiled, detaching her from his lean frame. “You’ll think of something. Keep in touch if you ever need anything.”

Charlotte sighed, crossing her arms across her ample chest as the man she came to know as a brother nonchalantly sauntered out of view. The hairs on the back of her neck furled; she didn’t have to turn around to know that Jacob was exceedingly close to her, discerning the warmth that radiated off his body.

“Who was that?” he interrogated.

“Just an admirer,” she lied, placing her hand on top of his broad shoulder. “Are we done here?”

He seemed to frown at her, hazel eyes located to the last spot he witnessed her conversation with the male stranger. “Is she dead?”

“Yes. By tomorrow, everyone in London will know about it.” She attempted to remove her hand away from him, though she glared when his gloved palm got hold of her own in a vice grip. It took every fiber of her being to be patient with him, obviously not enjoying the physical contact. “Something wrong?”

He only grinned, as if she hadn’t asked him a simple question, instead tucking her arm under his possessively while she tried to disconnect from him. “Why don’t we go back to the tavern? Drinks on me.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for you guys; it's a little bit longer than the last one. Hope you guys enjoy ;)
> 
> Oh, I forgot to mention that there might be possible spoilers? Only if you haven't seen the AC Syndicate gameplay, though I'm not using the exact plot--some are different; it's your decision if you want to proceed. I feel like a bad person for not telling you guys before, lol
> 
> Anyway, Happy Halloween everybody!

Emily nervously paced back and forth, chewing on her nail as she impatiently waited for Charlotte’s return. Her other hand lightly touched the heart-shaped locket around her neck, opening the clasp as she withdrew the hidden letter inside.

She had gone through many lengths in order to retrieve this information; she bitterly fingered the purple bruise over her neck as she slightly pushed the collar of her shirt. The red-head winced from the fresh sore spot, never comprehending why she ever degraded herself to a common whore. When she had ran away from her family, she came to the big city with no finances, no way of surviving, so it was only natural that Emily would use her body to her advantage. She confessed; it was nice having gentleman praise her charms and telling her how wonderful she was—something her own family never bothered telling her as they ignored her every chance they could get—even if they were drunk or not, but all that began to change when she first experienced love for the first time.

Unlike other Templars, Gregory was the only one who gave her a chance, even if he was oddly curt with her. He was charming, always acted like a true gentleman, and very determined in his ideals. She still imagined his gorgeous light eyes, wishing he would look at her as more than an acquaintance.

But she knew deep down that he would prefer someone else, someone more capable than some weak red-head who had nothing better to offer him . . .

She shook her head, willing to banish these dark thoughts that plagued her mind. Opening the thin paper in her hands, she inspected the blotchy ink spots that concealed a few words, her mind trying to decipher the meaning of the letter as she quietly read aloud.

_28 th October 1868_

_Emily,_

_I am pleased to hear about your accomplishments in gathering intel and spying on Mr. Frye. I knew you above all others would never stray from my side, and from our cause. Your loyalty, as well as the loyalty of Ms. Faulkner and her friend, will be rewarded in the near future._

_Starrick is temperamental from having discovered the death of his dear cousin, his hands itching for blood from the killer behind the murder, but only you and I know who the real perpetrator is. I have been searching around the manor for Ms. Lucy’s notes on the Shroud, but the sneaky occultist was very clever in hiding her most precious works. She suspects me, yet doesn’t have enough evidence of our uprising to call me out, though it won’t be long before she tries anything funny._

_Not that I’m worried; I’ll have the elder twin finish the deed for me while we work to more important matters._

_It has come to my attention that Roth is hosting a Hollow’s Eve gala on the 31 st at the Alhambra Theatre. I haven’t spoken to the madman since the stagecoach incident, but no matter; like us, Roth is growing tired of Starrick’s tight rein on the city and I believe an alliance is in order. I need you and Charlotte to attend tonight’s performance and intercept Roth._

_Be cautious. I should not have to stress how important this delicate situation is. If anything goes wrong, then I’m afraid all that we have worked for would be for nothing._ _I’m counting on you to succeed in your endeavors, whatever the costs._

_~ Bloody Nora_

The Irishwoman collapsed against the wall, her trembling hand wiping the perspiration that started beading on her forehead. _As if I don’t ‘ave enough to deal with . . ._

“Emily, is everything alright?”

Emily screamed, hand clutching her chest as she rapidly hid the letter behind her back. She relaxed a bit when she found that it was only Charlotte, and not another member of the gang. “Ye gave me a fright! And where ‘ave ye been?”

“Busy with the boss.” The raven-head woman rolled her eyes from the red-head’s sly smile. “Not like that. He offered drinks, though I told him I don’t do well with ale.”

“Sure,” Emily teased, poking the stoic woman’s arm before laughing from her death stare. “Oh c’mon, ye know ye want to.”

“What do you have there?” The Scottish woman ignored her snide remark, instead gesturing towards the piece of paper clutched inside the woman’s fingers while shrugging off her coat and weapons onto her own bed.

“A letter from Nora.”

Charlotte snatched the paper, skimming over the information with narrowed eyes before walking over to the lit candle, watching the flames lick away at the material until it was no more. “Nora assumes that Roth would be a valuable asset?”

Emily nonchalantly shrugged. “Her orders.”

“I’m not one to question her judgment, but Roth has got to be the most unstable man I know—besides Starrick; he just hides his maniac persona behind a mask. He could very well betray us in an instant.”

“How should we proceed then?”

“. . . We have no other choice,” she bitterly replied. “I’ll let Nora handle him on her own, all we should worry about is meeting with Roth.”

Emily gave an unladylike snort. “With what, exactly? In case ye ‘aven’t noticed, we don’t ‘ave proper attires, invitations—”

“Relax. I just ran into Gregory not a moment ago, he might be able to help us gather what we need.”

“Oh . . .”

The opening of the door immediately stopped the conversation, with Milly bounding into the room with a wide smile on her cherub face. “I have great news! Oh, Emily you’re hurt again . . .”

Emily shoved her collar closer to her chin, her eyes avoiding their perplexed stares. She hadn’t meant for them to see, though she was impressed that the little girl spotted it before Charlotte did. The red-head shivered from the woman’s speculative glance, though she knew she would question her behavior later when they were alone. “Nothin’. What is it?”

“Clara mentioned that a rumor circulated around town of Lucy’s whereabouts. She’s in the Tower of London, and she may have found a clue as to where the Shroud is.”

Emily paled. “Oh god . . .”

 _Great, another task we have to take care of_. Just when she thought everything was going smoothly with Pearl’s assassination, now Charlotte is bombarded with Roth’s gala and Lucy’s scavenger hunt for the Piece of Eden.

“Don’t worry about Lucy. Our main priority at the moment is Roth. Milly, tell Nora the news about the Shroud, but don’t have her follow Lucy just yet.”

“What are ye plannin’?” Emily inquired.

“I have no doubt in mind that Evie will compete with Lucy for the Shroud. Let the assassin handle her, and when the time is right, we might manipulate her into showing us where the Piece of Eden is.” Charlotte rifled through the drawers, taking out the ink quill and parchment before setting them down on the desk, handing one of each to Milly.

Emily peered down at them, grinning at how focused they seemed to be in their task. “Ye know, ye can’t waltz into the ball unescorted. It won’t be proper.”

“Hmm.” The raven-haired woman half-listened to Emily, too concentrated on finishing the letter to listen to her opinions. Not that she ever took her opinions to heart anyhow.

The Irishwoman didn’t seem fazed by her indifference and continued speaking, excitement practically waving off of her body. “I’d recommend a date, or someone who’d be interested in ye to go . . .”

Realization dawned onto Charlotte as she abruptly dropped her quill, exasperatedly sighing into her hand before walking away from them and heading towards the door.

Emily smirked. “Where are ye goin’?”

“Not another word, Emily.”

* * *

 

Stagecoaches of all shapes and sizes parked in front of the entrance, high class socialites and important nobles gracefully stepping out in their vibrant colored outfits and masks. Each couple handed their vintage cards to the attendant before entering the theatre over the red carpet, the blinding light flashing over their happy faces.

Charlotte patiently waited underneath the lamp post, bravely meeting the gazes of several men who dared to eye her like a piece of cutlery. She returned their hungry gazes with a sinful glare, lightly smirking from their frightened faces as they pivoted their attentions elsewhere.

Despite all the curious stares she received this evening, Charlotte couldn’t help but admire the sheer fabric beneath her fingers. The dress wasn’t puffy and suffocating like many others, rather it was slightly slim around her curvy waist with the rest of the dress trialing down her long legs, and the burgundy color underneath the elegant black lace patterns made her porcelain skin tone illuminate. Even the dark mascara and dark eye-shadow heightened her light eyes. She adjusted the lace sleeves before bringing her mask up for further inspection.

Like her attire, the mask was black lace though metallic and with dark red rhinestones adorning the upper eyelids. She couldn’t make out the animal until a second glance at the nose and ears did she realize it was a wolf.

_Good to know Gregory has a keen awareness of my tastes._

“Don’t you look ravishing,” a deep voice said behind her, shivering as his large hands cupped her bare shoulders and brushed her long locks to the side.

The Scottish woman turned to face Jacob, still feeling queasy when he hadn’t removed his hands from her. She tried staying calm, ignoring the intimate gesture as she stoically peered into his hazel eyes. “You’re not wearing a mask?”

Jacob smirked, stroking a lock of her hair before detaching himself from her. “Why bother? I got nothing to hide.”

“Makes it all the more easier for Roth to know who you are.” She kindly accepted his arm as they slowly walked up to the attendant.

“That’s the plan,” he whispered before handing the man their invitations and escorting her inside the building.

The lobby was packed with other people, the loud clamor and dim lights making her head spin. She counted at least a dozen men wearing the same golden mask of the sun, and several women wearing the identical peacock feathered masks, as if they didn’t put any effort in being uniquely different.

_Strange, almost all of the men have the same masks. What’s going on?_

“Looking for someone?” Jacob asked, glancing to where her line of vision situated on a group of masked men conversing in a corner.

“Just for Emily,” she stated. “She had told me that a guest was interested in meeting us . . . and there she is.”

She spotted Emily’s bright red curls among the sea of dark-haired men, observing her freckled face hidden underneath an emerald cat mask that matched her forest green and golden masquerade dress. She was glad to see that the bolero coat effectively covered the dark spot on the side of the woman’s neck, though Charlotte made a point to ask when they got the chance to be alone. The red-head met her eyes with a knowing gaze, her hand dragging the unknown man hidden behind a black Venetian dog mask.

_Those blonde curls . . ._

Emily greeted the couple with a smile, a glint of playfulness in her dark green eyes. “Fancy seein’ you ‘ere. I’d like ye to meet a close friend of mine.”

The stranger revealed his face to the duo, causing a soft smile to grace Charlotte’s face and a scowl to cross over Jacob’s. Gregory rebuffed the man’s heated frown, boldly grabbing the raven-haired warrior’s hand before laying a gentle kiss on top. “Nice seeing you again, Charlotte.”

“Gregory,” she bluntly replied. “This is—”

“Jacob Frye.” The male assassin aggressively shook the blonde’s hand, clearly pleased that his strength intimidated the lean man. “Her _date_.”

“Ah, so this is the man she has been telling me about?” He had to repress the laughter that bubbled in his throat from the murderous shine in her Nordic eyes, though from behind him he faintly heard Emily chuckle in amusement. “I’m disappointed to see that her heart now belongs to another. Might I have the pleasure of a dance to remember you by?”

“Yes.” Charlotte briskly snatched his wrist before Jacob could protest; she glanced over her shoulder back at her ‘date’. “It’ll only be for a few minutes. I’ll see you shortly.”

When they were further from the crowd, hidden behind the draping curtains, Charlotte didn’t hesitate in slapping him across the face. It wasn’t like she brutally hurt him, although she was deeply infuriated at him for his actions earlier in the ballroom.

“Mind explaining why the hell you pulled that stunt?”

Gregory scoffed, lightly brushing over the light red imprint on his left cheek. “I’m just doing you a favor.”

“Really? By making him think I’m hopelessly in love with him?”

“It’s called being strategic. You haven’t noticed how enamored he is with you?”

“God, don’t—don’t say that!” she hissed, peering around them to make sure no one heard their conversation.

He only smiled from her predicament, placing a comforting hand on her tense shoulder. “Emily was right, you can be dense when it comes to romance.”

“Like you have been with Emily?”

 _Shit_. He hadn’t expected her sudden comeback, though she had got him there. He bit the inside of his cheek, taking her out into the room as they put on their masks, heading over into a lone corner as the music started playing. He took her hand in his, his arm draped over her upper back as they waltzed to the classical tone of the violins.

“So, did Emily ask you to come here?” Charlotte softly replied, breaking the awkward silence between them.

Gregory sheepishly blushed. “Actually, I asked her.”

The raven-haired woman raised an elegant brow at her companion, the corners of her mouth slightly peaking upwards. “I take it you finally professed your undying love for her?”

“Not exactly . . .” The pair spun around the other couples, all of them jumping into the air before landing back onto the floor and falling into step. “While I was busy picking out your attires—”

“Which were both lovely, thank you by the way.”

“My pleasure. Anyway, I finally had the nerve to ask her after blabbering like an idiot . . . but she refused.”

Charlotte blinked. “What?”

Gregory grimly nodded, spinning her around before laying his arm around her waist again. “Believe me, I was more shocked than you are right now. I felt numb, as if my heart stopped beating in that moment and I wanted to die in shame. I had asked her for an explanation, and she had this funny notion that we were . . . _involved_.”

“Where did she get _that_ idea?”

“Well to be fair, we are pretty close. Others even suspected that we were a couple due to our deep understanding with one another, though it was preposterous to think about. Why is it nowadays that a man and a woman can’t have a brother-sister relationship with one another?”

“No idea,” she agreed. “I assume you convinced her in the end because here you are.”

“Trust me, it took a lot of convincing.” The back of their hands met, both members steadily meeting chest to chest as they spun in a circle.

“It would have been much easier if you had told her how you felt about her,” she suggested.

“I just don’t know how she truly feels about me,” he sadly replied. “I know of her _conquests_ with other men, and I just didn’t want to have high hopes for something that deemed impossible.”

“Trust me, she adores you,” Charlotte genuinely stated, both of them stopping once the beat had ceased. They followed the crowd’s lead and clapped, to what they hadn’t the slightest idea.

A well-dressed man in black and white stood at the center of the crowd, his booming voice silencing the hoard. “Evening, ladies and gentlemen. Mr. Roth will be expecting your presence over at the dining hall in a half hour. Don’t miss the performance of a lifetime!” With that concluding statement, the announcer hastily exited the ballroom, leaving everyone to excitedly talk about the mysterious performance in store for them.

Charlotte felt a tug on her arm, seeing Gregory escort her back to where Emily and Jacob chatted with the other couples. She felt his blonde hair sweep past her face as he leaned down in her ear.

“Remember, you can manipulate this game to your advantage. Play with his emotions.”

“It doesn’t feel right,” she truthfully retorted.

“Why, I never knew you cared. It’s not like you’re severing his limbs or anything . . . at least not until the end. What difference does it make?” He squeezed her arm, bringing her to face his stern turquoise eyes. “We’re in the middle of a gang war; we have to ensure that they fall. He’s the enemy, don’t you forget about it.”

“I won’t.”

Still, the thought of purposefully leading Jacob on, only to dispose of him in the aftermath, had disturbed her immensely. She didn’t know whether it was from pity or if she actually cared for him—something she was entirely new to and didn’t want to imagine—but the last thing she wanted was to rid of him in that way. If she was going to kill him at the end, she would want a real, meaningful battle before seeing the life extinguish from his eyes.

_Just play it safe._

Emily and Jacob simultaneously turned their attention to them, but the red-headed cat lady could only look at their linked arms in melancholy. The Irish girl made an effort to hide her distress, instead smiling at the two while blinking away hot tears. “Guess this means it’s our turn.”

Gregory nodded, gently enveloping her gloved hand in his as if she was made of glass, and then he whisked her away to another location.

She lingered onto their retreating forms until an outstretched hand interrupted her from her daze. Puzzled, Charlotte peered from underneath her mask at the benevolent smile stretched across his face. “Mr. Frye?”

“I believe you owe me a dance, love,” he cheekily replied, bringing her body flushed against his muscular frame before taking the lead.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for not uploading this chapter sooner. School is getting intense, especially since 2nd quarter is shorter and everyone piles up on work :\
> 
> Thanks for all your support; I'm literally having a heart attack from all your love XD
> 
> By the way, if you guys haven't checked, I have posted a new work on my profile that will describe Charlotte Faulkner's life. It's titled AC Transcendence (I know, corny title XD), if anyone is interested in checking that out, and it's currently a work in progress. It has NO relation with this story.

Heels clicked over the impending silence, the young woman attentively peering on all sides to make sure no one came strolling by. Charlotte calmly hid herself behind a column, watching from afar as a small group of sun-masked men entered through the backstage door. She narrowed her eyes, following behind them as she entered through the other side.

No one paid her any heed, too busy performing their routines as they fluidly moved their limbs like slithering snakes. Their weird movements were oddly hypnotic, but the raven-haired woman snapped her attention away from them and marched behind the black curtain.

_Roth has to be here somewhere._

After dancing with her boss, the gang all decided to rendezvous at the dining hall where the performance would take place. She knew that she wouldn’t get the chance to speak to Roth alone, not with Jacob’s watchful gaze on her every second, and she doubted she would have time afterwards to meet with the maniac. As an excuse, she announced that she had to go to the loo, sending mute glances towards Emily to let the red-head accompany her. The Irish woman immediately knew her plan, wasting no time in following her out of the dining hall, halfway separating from Charlotte so she could search the other side of the massive theatre to find Roth faster.

That was over five minutes ago, and she was wasting precious time.

A performer managed to spot her instantly, making his way towards her with a questioning glance. “Miss, this area is restricted.”

“Apologies. I’m looking for Mr. Roth. He specifically asked for me to join him before the show starts.”

He frowned, and she dreaded the idea of him seeing past her lie. Her gun sinfully brushed against her pant leg, silently asking her to take the kill and move on before anyone could stop her; she didn’t want to withdraw her weapon unless it was absolutely necessary. But to her relief, he only nodded and gestured for her to follow closely behind him, leading her to a hidden passage backstage.

Charlotte carefully climbed up the steep steps, hoisting her dress up as she went, with the escort already leaving her behind. She didn’t dare look down, dreading the idea of slipping and falling over the rail hundreds of feet to her death, so she stared at the floor in front of her and continued moving.

Once they reached the top, the masked man took out a key from his pocket, opening the locked door and letting her walk inside. She took out her gun after the door slammed shut, the lock clicking in place and leaving her in the darkness.

The Scottish woman ventured forward, gun trained out in front of her as she watched for any traces of movement in the shadows. Electric blue eyes focused on the silhouette over by the balcony, his head gazing down at the center of the stage where the performers danced for the audience.

“Isn’t it marvelous?” he asked, head slightly veering towards the side so he could see her from his peripheral vision.

“Maybe.” The head of the pistol was shoved against his back, her hand trapping his wrists situated behind his back.

He deeply chuckled, amused by her antics. “Come now, my dear. There’s no need for violence. I presume you’re not here just for the entertainment.”

“No, I’m here to negotiate,” she lowly stated, roughly spinning him around with the weapon dangerously aimed at his chest.

The rumble coming from the eerie music haunted them, its enticing notes dancing across the shadows as the brightly colored dancers twirled each other around the stage. Everyone in the audience stared in awe at the flexible performers and their horrific costumes, their eyes not once peering up towards them.

“Did Nora send you?”

She didn’t waver, narrowing her eyes as she brought the gun closer to his chest. “How did you know that?”

“Trust me, darling, I’m not that popular with the other Templars. Nora is one of the few that wants to overthrow Starrick. I say good riddance.”

“Then you must know that she wants to form an army against him? She believes you can help us.”

Roth laughed in amusement, the corners of his scarred face crinkling. “Oh, believe me. I would love to be part of Nora’s posse, but first you have to do something for me.”

 _Another one?_ Frankly, Charlotte was starting to get peeved by all the requests thrown her way, but she was a very patient woman, and this alliance was crucial to Nora. She held in her frustration for now, cautiously lowering her weapon. “What is it?”

He smirked, slowly encircling around her with that malicious smile spread across his sinister face. “I’m planning to destroy Starrick’s industries throughout London, but first I need helpers.”

“Helpers?”

“Yes, preferably small children who are able to slip through the cracks and escape undetected,” Roth stated.

“Why not ask your men to do it for you?” she inquired, suddenly not liking where this was going.

“And have Starrick know that I’m plotting his demise? Might as well tell him that Nora is betraying him as well. We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

 _Son of a bitch._ The dark-haired woman knew from the beginning that Roth was trouble; he didn’t care about anyone except himself, and if he went down, he’d make sure others fell with him. She wished she could just pull the trigger, but they needed his support and his men in order to make their plans a reality.

“Fine,” she grumbled, shoving her weapon back in its place. “It will be difficult; I’m being watched by Jacob and I may need more time.”

“Do not worry about Mr. Frye.” She shuddered when his arm casually directed her towards the center of the rail, pointing towards the familiar male assassin in the crowd. Charlotte couldn’t budge away from him, his iron grip securing her shoulder in place. “I’ll be sure to cut the end of the line soon enough. You just worry about rounding up the children.”

* * *

 “Did ye find him?” Emily asked, picking up the ends of her dress as she tried catching up to Charlotte, who hurriedly strolled right past her.

“Yes.”

“And?”

Charlotte stopped in her tracks, grimly glancing back at Emily. “I need to do something first. Can you tell Jacob that I left early?”

“What?” Emily blinked, trying to catch up to the woman as they exited the theater and into the chilly atmosphere of the night. “Where are ye goin’?”

“I’m going to talk with Milly. Just tell them I fell ill or something.”

The streets were deserted; mostly everyone was either at the Alhambra Theatre or stationed inside their homes. Not a single carriage was in sight, yet as she walked towards the _Seven Bells_ , she saw the bright lights blaring through the windows and roguish men downing their ale.

The Scottish woman quickly entered the pub, eyes scanning for Milly’s blonde hair. She frowned, searching all over the place for her dear friend. When she saw Clara washing the dishes, she immediately approached the teenage barmaid, concern flitting her features. “Clara, have you seen Milly?”

“Hm?” Clara owlishly peered back at the tall woman, setting the plate aside. “Oh, Ms. Faulkner. I haven’t seen her since she left about an hour or so ago.”

_Right, she was delivering Nora’s message._

She sighed, weaving her hand through her thick locks. “Clara, do you know what happens to the children out in the streets?”

The young girl eyed her for a moment, slowly wiping off the remaining dirty cups with a rag towel. “They’re orphans, not like they have any place to go. They usually spend time in Babylon Alley playing games. Most of the time they work long hours in factories, some not even returning. Why?”

Charlotte shrugged, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed in front of her. “I’ve just never seen that many children without families out in the streets. It must be awful.”

Clara sadly smiled, pouting as she put away the washed plates and cups. “Yeah.”

The older woman felt a strong sympathy for the young girl, wanting to console her and tell her that everything will be alright, but how could she? Here she was manipulating the girl into telling her where she can traffic children for Roth’s goals—she didn’t deserve the girl’s kindness.

“Thank you,” Charlotte said, pushing herself off the wall. “I’ll be on my way, make sure Milly is safe.”

“Of course.” Clara gave her a short nod before disappearing out back.

When she was safe outside, Charlotte withdrew her knife and cut away at the beautiful dress until the black lace stopped just below her torso. Discarding the tattered remains in a nearby trashcan, she made her way straight to Babylon Alley where she prayed the children were still out. It would make her job a whole lot easier, and the faster she rounded them up and handed them over to Roth, the less she would feel agonized by her actions.

She smirked to herself, entering the alleyway where laughter erupted, children throwing tiny pebbles at a pile of junk. _You’re growing soft, Charlotte._

The children all stopped their merriment, fearfully watching the stranger stalk them. One of the braver boys stepped up while the others cowered behind his frame. “Can we help you, miss?”

Charlotte nodded, slowly taking out a few silver coins from her pockets. “Mr. Roth asks for your assistance. He will pay you all handsomely should you follow his orders.”

They snatched the coins from her hands, all aweing at the abundance of money. They would go a full week without sleeping in the slums with empty bellies waking them every minute; they would finally eat like the rich.

The leader happily shook her hand, gazing at her as if she was their savior. “Deal. Where would you have us go?”

“Go to the Alhambra Theatre, and tell Roth that the woman he talked to earlier sent you” she instructed, making sure she concealed her identity to these kids. “Before I forget, have any of you seen a small blonde girl pass by? She had a green sash on her.”

One of the children nodded, gently cupping her hand and pointing towards the direction where Milly ran off to. “I saw her head down The Strand, ma’am.”

“The Strand?” She couldn’t recall if that territory was under Nora’s control anymore; the location he mentioned was on the other side of London.

“Yeah, though a gentleman was following her . . .”

Her heart instantly stopped when the young boy uttered those very words, fists clenched against her side in fury. The other kids noticed her murderous expression, taking the time to quickly thank her before running away from her.

On instinct, she viciously punched the stone wall, letting the pain crack through her veins before angrily walking away. Blood smeared across the stones and between the cracks, slowly dripping down onto the soiled ground.

 

“I’m sorry miss, I haven’t seen anyone.” The old man gave her an apologetic smile before taking his wife’s arm, the elderly couple strolling away from her.

Charlotte was growing desperate; everyone that she has interviewed gave her the same exact answer: they had never seen a blonde ten-year old girl walking round late at night. She worriedly checked every hiding place she could find; turning over crates, destroying glass bottles, and checking every dark corner in the alleyways. Still no sign of Milly.

_I just want her back . . ._

The hairs on the back of her neck raised; she pivoted her attention towards the lone figure underneath the soft fire of the lamp post, the flames flickering every now and then. His eyes met hers, recognition dawning onto him as he roamed over her attire, fixed on the sash round her waist.

She bolted after him as he retreated into the shadows.

“Hey, get back here!” Charlotte extracted the knife from the sheath, flicking the weapon into the air as it embedded itself in between the stones.

The man screeched from the loud clang next to his ear, body paralyzed in fear, and before he could regain control of his senses, he was being shoved against the wall. He gulped as the knife was scraping against his neck, whimpering from the applied pressure.

“P-p-please, I didn’t do anything! I-I swear!”

“Enough!” He stilled from her harsh command, hyperventilating as the blade lightly pierced his skin. “I want answers: do you know anything about a blonde girl, ten years old, wearing a green sash, walking around The Strand at night?”

“. . . N-no . . .”

“Don’t lie. If you want to live, you better tell me now.”

“Okay!” he cried out, choking as crimson specks dropped onto his dirtied clothes. “She . . . she was heading towards the docks . . . a man and his friends were following her . . .”

“What did they look like?”

“Burly and tall; all wore the same exact color theme: green and yellow. The leader was bald—Arthur! O-one of them called him Arthur!”

Her eyes widened from the revelation, gritting her teeth as she slightly eased her aggressive hold on him, though she didn’t let go. “Where did you last see them?”

“A-at a warehouse. I-I-I can show you!”

She allowed the man to usher her quickly towards the warehouse, her knuckles turning extremely white from her death grip on the handle of the knife.

_Please be safe._

She would never have imagined members of the Rooks did shady things outside the group; she had assumed all of them respected Frye as their leader. Maybe they do, maybe not; either way, there has to be some explanation for kidnapping their own kind.

The Scottish woman recalled the bald man who had pummeled Emily not too long ago, the same one who left the red-head battered on the floor while his men egged him on. To think his large hands somehow managed to snatch Milly beneath her nose was unsettling; she swore she would make him pay when she faced him.

_He must know about us. What other reason is there for kidnapping her?_

Charlotte knows that they’ve been extremely careful in their endeavors, burning every letter they’ve read from Nora, and receiving information from Clara secretively and without suspicion. So how could he have found out?

“This is it, miss.”

The warehouse was abandoned; windows were shattered and no ounce of light shone through the darkness. Plank wood barred the front door, yet the lock and chains were recently unhinged as they laid on the ground. It was a death trap, that she was aware of, but what other choice did she have?

“I’m sorry, and thank you. Don’t tell anyone what happened.”

“U-um yes, ma’am.”

Her fingers flexed beneath her, hearing his footsteps fade into the distance. The raven-haired woman swapped her knife for her pistol, checking the bullets inside and making sure she had enough. She exhaled, clicking her gun before entering into the empty warehouse.

Everything was silent, and the only noise that echoed in the still air was the sound of chains clanking together. Water dripped from the ceiling, sending the tall woman on edge as she snapped towards the sound. When she found nothing, Charlotte slowly drew her gun down, electric blue eyes surveying the area.

She stopped at the three shadows up ahead, cautiously coming down the ramp just as the three Rooks swaggered over to her.

“Arthur,” she warned, aiming the weapon at him while his henchmen raised their guns at her. “Where the hell is she?”

He darkly chuckled, his bulging muscles flexing as he raised his sleeves up to his elbows. Using his fingers, he whistled towards the other guys to the right.

A small child was shoved towards Arthur, the thug grasping onto the bag that covered the child’s head. When he lifted the thick bag off of the body, it took every fiber of her being from lunging herself at the monster as Milly’s face was revealed.

Her blonde locks framed her angelic face, a purplish bruise scarring over her left eye and her mouth gagged. Her swollen eye tried dissecting every feature of Charlotte’s face, trying to recognize her through her blurry vision. When she finally realized who had come to rescue her, Milly struggled against her bounds, screaming against the white fabric that shut off her vocal cords. She sobbed when Arthur hoisted her up by her hair, tugging her head back as a steel blade was pressed up against her throat.

“Have anythin’ to say to us, Charlotte?” he taunted.

Charlotte glowered at him, stopping in her steps when his men threatened to shoot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she coolly stated.

“Really? So, you aren’t conspiring against us by sending information back to Nora?” He reached into his pocket, crumbling the paper into his large, calloused hand before throwing it in front of her feet, spitting at the worthless message.

“We don’t have to do this, Arthur.”

“Oh no, I could just let you walk out of here unharmed while we get lynched.” He gave a cruel laugh before taking the knife and cutting off a lock of Milly’s hair.

Charlotte tried so hard to focus on Milly’s terrified expression, tears leaking from the small girl’s eyes as she continued sobbing. The Scottish woman licked her lips in anticipation, sweating from the pressure as she trained her pistol on him.

“Let her go, Arthur. This is between you and me.”

He shook his head. “No, it involves all of you. And I suspect that cunt Emily was also part of this? I can’t wait to see the look on our boss’s face when he discovers your plans. I bet he would enjoy killing your pretty little face in.”

“Last chance,” she growled, light eyes shining with a sadistic gleam, just wanting to get her hands dirty with his blood.

No one said anything after that, the tension in the air thickening as they squared off one another. No one could say who had started it, but in a blink of an eye bullets were firing everywhere. Smoke flashes exploded everywhere, men screaming as they tried killing the woman through the fog.

Meanwhile, Charlotte hid behind crates, firing bullets at the dark shadows within the white gas. Each one of them hurtled towards the ground, pools of blood leaking the ground. She expertly reloaded her weapon within seconds before firing again until she was positive she had gotten them all.

The smoke dissipated, revealing the corpses sprawled on the floor with their eyes staring into the nothingness. She walked past each and every one of them, trying to identify the main culprit behind this attack. She picked up the white rope from the ground, realizing it was the same rope that was tied around Milly’s mouth.

Her head perked upwards, the ladder clinging as Arthur’s feet hoisted themselves up through the skylight.

“ARTHUR!”

Her hands instantaneously gripped onto the handle of the ladder, her legs hastily climbing each metal bar. For the first time in her life, Charlotte was scared. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time, and the powerful emotion that resurfaced on her skin made her sick to the core.

The wind roughly slapped against her face, her black hair flying in the air as she was face-to-face with the bloodied face of Arthur. She stalked closer, her eyes practically glowing as she raised her gun at him one last time.

“It’s over. Hand her to me, now!” she hollered.

“You won’t win, bitch!” he spat, his arm crushing Milly’s small neck as he crawled away from her. “I’ll make sure one of you dies . . . even if I go done too . . .”

“NO!”

Before Arthur could tread towards the edge of the roof, Milly deeply sank her teeth into his palm, feeling the man trying to shrug her off as he roared into the air. She gasped, her body released from the large man’s muscular frame as she collapsed onto the rooftop. Her sapphire eyes fearfully widened as Arthur fell off the roof with a yell, plummeting towards the ground and out of her sight.

“Milly!” The older woman quickly embraced the trembling girl in her arms, soothingly rubbing her back while whispering words into her ears to try and comfort her. She hugged her tighter as the blonde’s sobs rumbled through her chest, feeling her tears soak through her black lace top and warmth radiating off of her body.

Down below, Charlotte lingered on the disoriented lifeless body that glowed underneath the moon’s knowing light.


	7. Chapter 7

The Rooks were worriedly waiting for their three comrades to return—they hadn’t seen Arthur and his men come back in over three days. They hadn’t thought too much of it at first because everyone knew that their boss sometimes sent a few of his Rooks to scavenge areas under Blighter control with him, and Jacob’s absence over the past few days thus solved their fears of their missing friends.

But Evie had sensed something was wrong, and when she has even the smallest notion of trouble, it sent the whole gang on edge.

While Evie continued her hunt after Thorne and looking around the city for her absent brother, who hadn’t bothered informing her of his whereabouts, the rest of the gang started gossiping around an unoccupied table. The tavern was closed, and the young barmaid was finishing wiping the dirtied mugs while eavesdropping on the gang.

“Does anyone know where Arthur may be?” A scrawny young man asked, shuffling cards.

A meaty Rook blew on his cigar, pinching the ashes on the floor. “Haven’t seen ‘em since he mentioned he was followin’ someone.”

“Who?”

“He wouldn’t say, but all he told me was that we may have traitors.”

At the word, everyone fell silent, and even Clara abruptly stopped cleaning to intently listen into the conversation. The large Rook noticed the lean man inquisitively stare at him, eyebrows furrowing in accusation. “Got somethin’ to say, Keith?”

Keith shook his head, training his eyes on the set of cards in his hands. “No . . .”

No one dared say anything, their gazes focused on Keith’s twitching hands as he fanned out the cards to the other players. They then followed their line of sight to the muscled arm that stopped Keith’s hand, restricting its hold to make the dirtied blonde male cry out from the pain.

“Walter, what the hell are you doin’?” one of the members called out from the crowd, trying to help the poor boy from being beaten to a pulp, but he was stopped by his other brothers.

Walter ignored the other man’s shouts, leaning close to Keith, his foul breath hitting the young boy. “You think I’m one of ‘em? A traitor?”

“N-n-no!” He shouted when his knuckles were bent, feeling his bones crack from the intense pressure. “I-I didn’t say that!”

“Hey, that’s enough!” Clara furiously slammed her washcloth on the counter, marching her way towards the crowd that nervously parted to the side from her red-face. “I want no fighting in here! Let go of him or else I’m kicking you out.”

It’s ironic how a little girl can order around a beefy thug like Walter, but when Clara was raising hell, she meant business. They would never underestimate her just because she was a small imp; they were more afraid of the cockney girl’s violent outbursts than anything because she was supposed to be the kind girl who saved lost children, greeting everyone with a warm smile.

Walter immediately let go of Keith, raising his hands in defense. “Sorry, won’t happen again. We simply had a misunderstanding, right Keith?”

Keith gripped onto his swollen hand, stormy eyes glaring right back at Walter. But he held his tongue and only gave a curt nod to the brunette.

Clara triumphantly ‘hmphed’, her dress swishing around her as she went back to cleaning the dishes.

“. . . I think Arthur and his lackeys were behind it,” Keith unexpectedly commented, rubbing his sore hand. He noticed everyone gaping at him. “What? Hasn’t anyone noticed how they don’t hang out with us anymore? It’s suspicious.”

Walter scoffed, inhaling the smoked cigar. “So? Charlotte and the girls don’t come near us.”

“That’s different. They never knew us in the first place; we’ve known Arthur all our lives. To think he suddenly doesn’t tell us anything, it raises a lot of questions left unanswered.”

Suddenly the doors to the tavern flew open, and everyone jumped onto their feet thinking it was one of the Frye twins, preferably Jacob, who had returned. But to their surprise, it was only a small, young red-headed boy, sweat beading down his dirtied forehead and his eyes darting to the barmaid behind the counter.

“Clara, something terrible happened!”

The braided girl immediately dropped her cup, cringing from the harsh crash, but thankfully it didn’t break. She set aside her apron and then she strolled over to her friend. “Jake, what’s going on?”

Jake swallowed, his hands running down his pant leg uncomfortably. “The children . . . none of them came home last night . . .”

The Rooks could see tears threatening to stream down the girl’s face, but she bit her lower lip and held her head high. She didn’t want to appear weak in front of Jake; she was the leader of the children, and the last thing they needed at a time like this was a leader who couldn’t compose herself.

“W-when did they leave? Where did they go?” she croaked.

Jake sadly looked away from her pouty face, taking his hat in his hand and looking down towards his ash-stained overalls. “No one knows. I’m sorry, Clara.” He pulled her into a tight hug, patting her sobbing frame against his chest while closing his eyes.

In the far corner of the bar, two shadows observed the tearful scene in front of them, guilt shrouding their hearts. Emily shifted in her spot, tiredly rubbing her eyes while holding onto the heart-shaped locket around her neck in comfort. “It doesn’t get any easier, does it?”

Charlotte only sighed, not wanting to answer for the red-head when they both knew the answer to her question.

“And Milly? She doin’ okay?”

“She’s still in her room,” the dark-haired woman lowly replied. “She refuses to come out.”

The blonde ten-year old girl, the brightest little girl she had ever known, had suddenly secluded herself inside the confines of the room they shared, shutting everything and everyone away from her. Charlotte’s fists clenched beside her, remembering the vacant look in Milly’s bright sapphire eyes as the little girl stared out the window, and the bruise that didn’t heal from her face. She knew that it would slowly heal eventually, but would Milly?

The red-head heavily sighed beside her. “And to think everythin’ was goin’ according to plan. What will we do now without our allies?”

Charlotte snapped her head at Emily, eyes dangerously narrowing. “What are you talking about?”

Emily paled, realizing too late what she had confessed out into the open. “I-I didn’t want to tell ye. Nora made me swear not to reveal anythin’, but Dr. Elliotson and Brewster are dead . . . ‘ave been for a while . . .”

“And when where you going to tell me?” Charlotte hissed, glancing back at the Rooks to make sure they hadn’t overheard them. She sat down in the chair in front of the red-head, sighing as she rubbed her forehead. “Since when?”

“. . . Since the twins arrived in London . . .”

_And yet the people in London didn’t gossip about it? That was over several months ago. Gregory won’t like this one bit._

“Why didn’t Nora say anything about this?” she inquired. “What is she hiding, Emily?”

The Irishwoman twiddled her fingers together, refusing to meet Charlotte’s gunmetal blue eyes that dissected every twitch of her actions. “She didn’t want Starrick to know ‘bout the twins just yet . . . she waited until Pearl’s death; she needed all the time to secretly recruit Elliotson’s men on our side.”

“So, she bribed the police into not revealing the death of the mad doctors, am I correct?”

Her nod was all Charlotte needed to know, and the Scottish woman suddenly had doubts on Nora. Why was it that Nora needed all the secrecy? Why hadn’t she told her about any of this? What was she trying to achieve?

_She probably wants to take control of London for herself._

She should have seen it coming, and everything started clicking together once Emily had told her everything she needed to know; the deaths of the mad doctor and his companion didn’t worry the female gang leader at all, and Nora didn’t express her concerns over their deaths in her letter—she didn’t care about the loss in allies. But then why does she suddenly want an alliance with Roth?

“I see what she’s doing,” whispered Charlotte, making the confused red-head stare at her. “Besides Starrick, Roth is the only gangster in London with a large army. He used to be Nora’s mentor. If Nora is combining all her men, plus the few she gathered from the mad doctors and now with Roth—”

Emily’s eyes widened, suddenly catching on to what she was stating. “Then she’d ‘ave all the men she needs to overthrow Starrick. An’ all she needs is the Shroud—”

“To make sure she stays in power forever,” finished the raven-haired warrior, feeling uneasy from all of this.

_It’s complete madness. She’s going to be a tyrant, and where do we stand in all of this?_

“Ye’re not thinkin’ of backing out, are ye?” Emily softly asked after a moment’s silence.

It was tempting to the Scottish woman, but she didn't want to risk everything they've been doing for nothing. Even if she did call it quits, Nora wouldn't take it so kindly to their betrayals. They'd be hunted for the rest of their lives if Nora won in the end.

“. . . No. You?”

The red-head immediately shook her head, her eyes glancing back to the Rooks silently playing cards and Clara’s tear-stained face as the cockney girl sniffed while working. “Even if I wanted to, we ‘ave no choice. She’d kill us all.”

Rain pelted against the glass, causing the Rooks to grumble from the sudden change in weather. They didn’t need the gloomy weather to ruin the already sullen atmosphere; all they wanted was for all this to wash over soon so they could finally live in peace, and away from Templar rule.

But war had only just begun.

When their boss had returned about a half hour later, everyone was shocked to take note of his angry face, his hazel eyes blazing wildly and the fingers clasped around his gun showing off his white bones underneath. The Rooks all eyed him wearily, not wanting to ask what had happened, for they feared he would snap at them any second by lodging a bullet through their skulls.

Jacob tried controlling his hatred, but it proved ineffective as he roughly shoved a chair aside with his foot. Everyone winced when a table crashed over, sending more chairs down with it. At least Clara wasn’t downstairs with them, the young barmaid having gone upstairs to check on Milly, but eventually she would wander down here to question Jacob about the raucous noise.

“B-boss?” one brave Rook lightly touched Jacob’s sleeve, covering his face when the British assassin reeled on him, only to stop his fist in mid-air.

“. . . I’m sorry.” His hand dejectedly fell to his side, his wave of adrenaline dissipating. He slumped on a chair, one that he hadn’t completely terrorized, and took off his top hat, staring inside the empty hat. “Roth is no more. He put the lives of innocent children in harm’s way; the bastard got what he deserved. But that’s not what worries me . . . I found Arthur’s body by the Strand . . .”

Everyone gasped from the news, waiting for their boss to continue telling his accounts.

Jacob held in his frustration, breathing in as he went on, “He fell off the roof, though no one knows who killed him. And to make matters worse, his men were killed in a gun war . . .”

“The Blighters, boss?”

The young man nodded without hesitation, as if he suspected the rival gang to harm their own. “I believe so. It’s impossible for a person to take on that many men without getting injured, that precise accuracy is only suitable for a well-trained assassin . . .”

When he dozed off in thought, hurried steps trudged downstairs, and they all knew that Clara would berate Jacob for trashing her bar. The teenager fumed when she gazed upon the scene, making her way towards Jacob, but her anger slowly eased off when she glanced at his forlorn expression as if he was a kicked puppy.

“Jacob?” She reassuringly rubbed his broad back, concern flitting her features. “What did I miss?”

“Arthur is dead,” Keith sadly told her. “The Blighters got to him.” The dirtied blonde male turned back to Jacob, forgetting about one other important subject he hadn't gone into detail. “And the children?”

“What about the children?” Clara impatiently asked the assassin, hope shining inside her wide brown eyes. “Are they okay?”

The male assassin anxiously rubbed over his jawline, looking so lost to the world. His large hands gently grabbed onto Clara’s shoulders, and the cockney girl visibly tensed from his apologetic expression as hot tears fluidly fell down her eyes. “I’m sorry, Clara. I tried protecting them, but seven were dead when he lighted Starrick’s warehouse to the ground. Dammit, I tried!”

From far away, Charlotte’s nails dug into her toned arms from watching Jacob slam his fist onto a table, seeing a few splinters fly away from his strong impact. It could’ve broken in two if he allowed it, but he didn’t want to upset his friend even further. She stood immobile against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest and her foot pressed against the smooth surface. She refused to be involved in the discussion, instead preferring to watch from the sidelines from the dark, where she belonged.

_What have I done?_

Clara rubbed her drippy nose, wiping her tears using her sleeves. “H-how did they even get to Roth? They don’t even know him!”

“I interrogated one of his men. They say that Roth had hired a mercenary to collect the children,” the younger twin bitterly replied. “I swear, when I find out who this mercenary is, they’ll wish they were never born.”

The dark-haired woman finally glanced up when he uttered those words, eyes glinting in warning while he brooded over the children’s deaths. Her jaw locked in place, and when she pivoted her attention to the cockney girl, she wished she hadn’t looked into her wide chocolate brown eyes full of hurt. Though Charlotte remained rooted in place, her gunmetal eyes dared Clara to call her out in front of everyone.

Clara only turned her head away in fear, her lips unable to find the right words as she remained mute on the spot, her hand behind Jacob’s back clenching against the fabric of his obsidian leather coat.

* * *

 

_I have to tell him._

After the meeting, everyone retired to their rooms with empty hearts, not a single word uttered from their lips, not with all the bad news they've received today. The rain increased in strength, and lightning streaked across the sky, the clamor of the after-affect booming overhead. The lights were dimmed, the soft embers of the fire glowing, and only Clara remained alone in the ominous tavern.

The cockney girl just didn’t understand any of it; she had looked up to the stoic woman and had envisioned her as a hero, just like the assassins; one who would rid London of the Templars infesting the city along with the Frye twins. Her strength and composed personality made her all the more deadly, and to think she was now the enemy . . .

_She’s still on Starrick’s side._

Clara knew she should be cautious now that she was all alone without Jacob and Evie to protect her, and Henry was probably by his curio shop or on the train busy fulfilling his quests for the Maharaja while simultaneously assisting the twins in any way he can. Her eyes darted everywhere around her, especially towards the shadows, and she nervously rushed to finish setting up the fallen furniture back in place.

_Is Emily behind this as well? And Milly?_

Just thinking about the little blonde girl sent her heart crashing into a million pieces, wishing her new friend wasn’t involved in Charlotte’s schemes. But deep down she knew how Milly looked up to Charlotte like an older sister, and as much as she didn’t want to envision it, Milly used to work with the Templars, thus she may still have an allegiance with them.

“I have to find Jacob. He should still be around here,” Clara stopped what she was doing, tired of holding all the information to herself. If there was any way in defeating Charlotte and preventing her from harming Jacob, then Clara needed to act now.

She made her way to the front of the tavern and attempted to open the prodigious door, but a swish in the air stilled her movements and a knife embedded itself into the frame a few centimeters from her head, the metallic surface sinfully shining from the lightning glow outside. The braided girl screamed, turning around with her back flat against the closed door to see Charlotte and Emily emerge from the dark, both woman grimly looking at her.

“Going somewhere, Clara?”

A pounding noise thudded against her chest, as if her ribs would explode from the thick tension. Clara’s hands began to sweat, their hold still gripping onto the long handle of the door. She gulped, staring back into Charlotte’s cold eyes. “L-leave me alone.”

“And ‘ave ye tell the boss? We can’t afford that,” Emily reached inside the front of her dress, withdrawing a hidden pistol, locking the weapon on the trembling brunette.

“Emily, put the gun down,” the raven-haired woman hissed, bringing her hand over the weapon. “We didn’t agree to this.”

“So? I’m tryin’ to save our lives! We can’t ‘ave her squealin’ to the assassins. Just ‘cause ye’re afraid to kill a child . . .”

Clara pleadingly looked back to Charlotte, trying to unlock any sympathy the stoic woman ever had inside her heart. From her peripheral vision, she saw Emily’s hand tremble from the pressure, and she wondered if the Irishwoman had ever murdered a child before. Judging from her twitchy hand, the red-head probably never killed anyone in her life for that matter.

“You’ve been working with the Templars all this time. I knew something was off from the moment Jake mentioned the children,” Clara said, remembering the conversation she had with the tall woman about the children in Babylon Alley. “You’re with Starrick.”

Emily scoffed. “As if we’d e’er work with that weakling.”

“Then who?”

“We’re not dumb, Clara.” The red-head slowly stepped forward, jade eyes holding the girl in place. “Why don’t ye meet her yerself? Charlotte, ye can take it from ‘ere.”

In a blink of an eye, the other woman lunged for Clara, but the young barmaid had finally found some sense in her paralyzed body to duck away from Charlotte, running around behind the furniture. Clara shouted as bullets were fired onto the wooden floor in front of her, widened eyes peering back at Emily. She thrashed when the Scottish woman grabbed the back of her dress while she stayed there in shock, effortlessly hoisting the girl up as if she didn’t weigh a thing.

“Let me go!” the teenager spat back, biting her lower lip as her feet dangled in the air. Clara felt tiny drops of water soak through her skin, making her clatter her teeth from the cold. In front of her, a lone carriage was parked by the side of the road, the unknown driver grinning when he saw who it was that approached his carriage.

“Well, well. Best keep her tied up, don’t want any loose ends now, would we?”

“Not now, Vincent,” Charlotte warned, her black hair plastered to her skin. She opened the carriage door, shoving Clara inside while Emily stepped in after the hapless girl, the seats getting wet from the water pouring inside. The red-headed female withdrew the coil ropes from the seat cushion, tying Clara’s arms behind her back while Charlotte held the cockney girl down.

Once she was done, Charlotte walked towards the front of the carriage, sternly looking at the smug man seated on the driver seat with the reins in hand. “Send Nora my regards. And if you touch a hair on the girl, I’ll castrate you myself, got it?”

His smile faltered a bit as he paled, though he nodded, showing he would heed her warning.

“Emily?”

The red-head poked her head out from the carriage window, gesturing towards the tied up Clara with a gag in her mouth. “I’ll help Vincent take ‘er to Nora. You stay ‘ere in the meantime.”

“Alright. And Emily, please keep Clara alive,” she whispered, glancing back at the brunette who had her head down.

Emily’s mouth was set in a thin line, her eyes curiously observing the taller woman. “I’ll try, but ye know how Nora gets ‘round a hostage . . .”

“Just do whatever you can.”

The Irishwoman silently nodded, and Charlotte strayed away from the window to signal towards the driver. Her light eyes trailed over Clara’s small head rising to stare at her one last time before the horses trotted down the cobblestones and into the silent night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Clara :'(


	8. Chapter 8

Wet drops puddled around her feet, dripping along the cracks and falling inside the indented bullet hole on the floorboard. The fire from the lamplight starting dimming a while ago, almost obscuring the empty tavern in complete darkness. She wrung out the excess water from her clothes, twisting her coat so the liquid could pool onto the floor. Charlotte heavily sighed, brushing her hands through her damp hair as she recalled Clara’s heart-stricken face after she discovered her hidden intentions. Her hands clenched and unclenched beside her soggy clothes, and she spontaneously slammed at the nearest table out of pure hatred for everything she had done, accepting the sharp pain shooting through her fists.

Her fingers tightly grasped onto the hard surface, arms slightly trembling from the pressure. “I’m sorry, Clara,” she whispered, nails digging into the board. “It’s too late to ask for your forgiveness . . .”

If only she had concentrated on Gregory’s warning in not getting attached, she would have been saved the trouble in experiencing the immense misery she was feeling right now. Nothing could be worse than betraying the ones closest to you, and she knew all too well that phrase from long ago. Even if it comes to killing the Rooks and the twins, she was glad to have met them all, no matter the consequences.

_They’re good people, wanting to bring change into this corrupt world._

Her ears perked up from the rushed footsteps pounding on the steps, and her head peered towards the Rook members coming downstairs, staying in control of her emotions as she watched their questioning gazes, no doubt speculating where Clara could’ve gone. She faintly swallowed, concealing the truth underneath her skin and putting up her defenses.

Keith cautiously stepped forward, the young man slightly nervous from facing the dangerous woman. His eyes briefly glanced at the bullet hole on the floor before facing her. “We thought we heard something. What happened?”

She gravely shook her head, easing her hold on the table when they fearfully lingered on her strained white knuckles. “I couldn’t stop them. Starrick’s men came in here; they took Clara and Emily before I could grab a hold of them. I was outnumbered.”

They ate every word she said, all of them giving her sympathetic smiles, and Keith was bold enough to console the stoic woman by locking his arms around her. She would’ve shoved him off of her, but she only bit down on her tongue, reminding herself that she had to play the part of a hopeless victim if they were to truly believe her, so she briefly patted his back in thanks.

“It’s okay, we’ll figure something out,” Keith whispered, his hands now on her shoulders so he could sternly stare into her eyes. “Our boss won’t let this go. He’ll go after the men responsible.”

“I’m sure as hell I will.”

Everyone jumped from the low growl coming from the tavern doors, the rain washing inside the room as the male assassin came inside. The sandy-haired Rook immediately let go of Charlotte, sensing his boss’s piercing glare directed towards him and how close he was to the raven-haired woman, and he awkwardly rubbed his head while focusing his eyes elsewhere.

Jacob glanced at the drenched woman, stepping closer to her so that his stubble ghosted over her forehead. “Did you see where they took them?”

“Barely. They escaped by carriage, looked as if they were heading straight towards the Strand, but we can’t—Where are you going?”

He hadn’t bothered listening to the rest, his anger already blinding him as he hurriedly left the establishment, and she followed close behind him while the others awkwardly stayed inside, not sure the best course of action to take.

She tried focusing on his dark coat that blended well with the dark night, her boots stepping over the soaked stones. Her arm reached for his, reeling him back to face her while rain fluidly cascaded down their skins. “Just what are you doing?”

“Saving Clara and your friend! Every minute we waste is another minute closer to their deaths—look what happened to Arthur! They took all of our closest friends to make us suffer; we’re going to return the favor soon. God, I can’t see through this bloody rain,” he shouted through the storm, brushing at his floppy hair and preventing his top hat from flying off. He paced around the street, trying to see through the tire tracks being flooded in by the storm, cursing every now and then.

“It’s futile, we won’t get anywhere with us standing around here,” Charlotte reasoned, glad to see him slowly relent to her suggestion as he stopped moving. “Take a moment to settle down; we can’t lose our heads like this.”

His hazel eyes roamed over her face, his legs stepping closer to the composed woman and invading her personal space. His gloved fingers quickly gripped onto her chin before she could retreat back into the darkness, ignoring her visibly tense underneath his touch as he breathed, “You surprise me every time . . .”

The stoic woman swallowed, feeling uncomfortable by the closeness; the warmth radiating from his fingers was somehow comforting throughout the bitter cold slicing through her body. She backed away when he shuffled closer to her, feeling the blood hotly course through her veins when his nose lightly skimmed over hers.

“Come with me,” he softly whispered, hand cupping the nape of her porcelain neck underneath the soggy clothes, keeping her in place. “We’ll look for them together.”

She shivered from his low, husky voice; his fingers left trails of fire over her bare skin as they continued their ministrations, and she couldn’t believe how much of a hold he had on her. The Scottish woman had never let anyone come close to her, the exceptions being the few friends she has now; she didn’t have issues trusting others, but the thought of them one day vanishing from her existence just like . . .

_No, this isn’t like before._

When her gunmetal blue eyes peered into his dark ones, Charlotte could distinguish the evident hope in his brown-green orbs, but through it all there was something concealed behind them, something so intense, so passionate that she wished she hadn’t lingered too long to see the adoration clouding over. She didn’t want to accept it, not when she orchestrated every downfall crashing his way.

_You can manipulate this game to your advantage . . . We have to ensure that they fall . . ._

Hearing Gregory’s voice sound off in her head eventually broke the spell; closing her eyes, she gently retreated back, mentally berating herself for being so careless in almost giving in. She shook her head, apologetic eyes looking back at his confused expression. “I have a child who needs me. I’m sorry.”

The muscles in his jaw clenched, though he smirked it off as if she hadn’t deeply wounded him. “Alright. But if you ever change your mind, I’ll be waiting by Leicester Square.”

She didn’t want to reply, instead silently nodding as she watched him zip-line out of view, returning back inside the tavern with her head hung low, though she abruptly stopped and let the water parade over her body, and she peered at the set of blue eyes watching from the high window.

After dismissing the Rooks while their boss went searching for their friends, the raven-haired woman went back upstairs to check on her small friend. Every heavy step felt like another toll was weighing her down, eventually making her stop at the top of the landing with her palm resting against the head of the rail. She took this moment to recall back on Jacob’s words that still rung inside her mind, and the way his touch had made her feel _something_ , even if she wanted to deny it.

 _What happened to you?_ She thought to herself as she found some form of movement within her fingers, taking the doorknob in her hand. _Emily’s right, you’ve changed . . . but maybe it’s not so bad . . ._

How long had it been since she allowed herself to become so vulnerable? Everyone she intimately knew were all dead because of her, and the unsettling sorrow she experienced throughout the years worsened, thus making her closed off from others. She may be in control of her emotions and may have kept her head straight later on, but deep down she had never stopped caring for people, worrying for them day after day, something that no one succeeded in figuring out about her. All they perceived from the outside was some heartless woman who obeyed orders, who was adamantly loyal to her cause and stopped at nothing to achieve it ruthlessly, not the broken person sheltered inside who cared more about the lives of others than her own.

And that was her greatest weakness.

“Milly?” she softly called, quietly entering inside the room to see the blonde girl look back at her from the window. “You okay?”

The little girl silently nodding, a faint smile adorning her chubby cheeks, something that made the tall woman feel relieved. “Okay,” she whispered, brushing her curly locks away from her face, revealing the faded bruise over her eye. “Where’s Emily? Is she okay?”

Charlotte nodded, leaning by the wall next to Milly as the girl widely looked at her with doey eyes. “She went to see Nora.”

Milly scrunched her face, wiping her itchy nose. “What for?”

 _Clara,_ she drearily thought, fists digging deep into her biceps, though she didn’t voice her reply out loud.

She never held in secrets from the ten year old, wanting to make Milly trust her with all her heart, but somehow the stoic woman just didn’t have the heart to inform her about Clara’s kidnapping. Charlotte could just picture the heart-broken expression washing over Clara’s face, her heart aching from the bitter memory, and she had a feeling Milly would react far more sensible. She was already traumatized by the incident in the warehouse, she didn’t need to hear more news that would crush her spirits.

 _But she has the right to know._ Charlotte slowly sat next to the girl, gently brushing at the short curly bang that was chopped off. “Milly . . . Clara found out about us. We couldn’t risk her telling, so Emily took her away to see Nora . . .”

The blonde girl whimpered, tears pooling in her eyes as she placed her head over her arms, letting the cold windowsill migrate across her forehead. She slightly trembled, shaking her head while Charlotte’s hand comforted her back. “W-why? Why are we bad people?”

“Milly,” she firmly replied, turning her around so she could face her, careful not to sound hostile towards the fearful girl. “We are _not_ bad people; we’re doing what we can to end the assassins. Nora—”

Milly shook her head, instantly hugging her long torso and burying her tiny head, sniffing. “I just wish this was over. I want to go home.”

_If only it were that simple . . ._

The raven-haired woman just couldn’t explain to the small girl why they were doing what they were doing; she wouldn’t understand that she was doing it for _her_ , the sole reason she put up with Nora and her vehement ways was all for Milly and the others. They never had a place to go, not until Nora recruited them to do her bidding against Starrick. Not once did she have any oppositions towards Nora, blindly accepting her fate and causing havoc throughout London with the other Blighter gangs, but that was when she didn’t personally know the madwoman. Now, seeing the gang woman’s true colors, Charlotte didn’t know what to believe in anymore.

“I promise, nothing will happen to her, you’ll see. I’ll make sure of that,” she vowed, weaving her fingers through her blonde hair and letting the girl furrow closer to her semi-dry body.

The dark sky started clearing up a bit; no longer were the streets blanketed by the thick fog produced by the downpour, and soon the excess water slowly drained down into the sewers. Lights burned from the streetlamps, fires awakening to life as they flickered throughout the dark.

Charlotte sighed, slowly detaching herself from Milly. “Why don’t you head in? It’s getting late.”

“Okay . . .”

She allowed for the child to tug her towards the empty bed, the little girl happily bouncing on it with a giggle before lifting the covers over her nightgown. A wide smile adorned Milly’s face, her head withdrawing into the pillows while her wide, blue eyes observing the older woman by her side. “Why didn’t you go with him?”

Charlotte shook her head. “I had to take care of you. You’re more important.”

The girl sadly pouted. “But he wanted you to go . . .”

The things that went on in Milly’s head was beyond her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Milly was blatantly implying that she abandon her to go after the reckless assassin. From all the years she’s known Milly, she couldn’t believe the angelic girl had a devious side to her.

“Looks like someone is all better,” she smirked, ruffling her blonde hair. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

Milly enthusiastically nodded, giggling underneath the top of her covers while gesturing towards the closed door. “You can go, I don’t mind.”

She faintly smiled, kissing the top of her forehead before rising from her spot. “Alright. I might be gone for a few days, but I’ll have Keith look after you while I’m gone.”

“Charlotte?”

When she gazed back at Milly slowly rising from the bed with her small hands fisting in the white sheets, she expected her friend to change her mind and call her back to watch over her. She didn’t want to panic over her well-being just yet, instead asking, “Something wrong?”

Milly playfully smiled, shoulders hunching forward as she laughed to herself. “Just don’t have too much fun,” she said in a sing-song voice before wishing her goodnight, her tiny body hiding underneath the covers and laying deathly still.

Charlotte blinked, not understanding what she meant until it hit her. She scoffed to herself, exiting the room while slamming the door behind her, the sound echoing throughout the narrow hallway. A faint blush ghosted over her cheeks without consent, and she cursed Emily for ever teaching the pure girl such dirty thoughts.

She was going to have a _long_ talk with the red-head.

* * *

 

Charlotte eventually met up with Jacob after asking Keith to supervise her friend, hunting for his figure around Leicester Square, which was the exact place he had told her to rendezvous at. Electric blue eyes observed every hidden corner, thinking the male assassin might be fooling with her and waiting for her to call it quits before he arrived fashionably late. In the end, she acquiescently sat on a moist park bench for what felt like half an hour, briefly closing her eyes to listen acutely to her surroundings.

“Don’t bother trying to scare me,” she lowly replied, listening to the male assassin retract his hood and casually stroll beside her.

“How’d you know it was me, love?” He cheekily smiled, lounging himself next to her with an arm propped behind her back.

“You breathe heavily,” she bluntly replied, edging away from him. “Have you found anything?”

He smiled wider, hand clamping down on her shoulder and bringing her flushed frame close to him as he whispered, “I asked around if anyone saw a carriage strolling by through the rain, and they only saw one. It may be our only evidence. I know it’s slim, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Where was it headed?”

“Due south, which is by Westminster. I’m meeting with Evie tomorrow morning, so we’ll see what she has to say about it.” He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, his hazel eyes so full of hope. “Don’t worry, we’ll get them back eventually. And Starrick will pay dearly for everything he has done.”

_If you knew who the real enemy was, you would no doubt say the same thing._

“So we wait?”

He nodded, standing up from the bench, hand stretched out towards her. “For now, until tomorrow. I booked a room in a nearby tavern where we can rest up.”

She didn’t question him any further, mutely letting him drag her around town towards the entrance of a small tavern squared in between shops. It wasn’t as spacious as _Seven Bells_ , but it was a lot crowded with gangly thugs quenching their thirsts or gambling loudly in dark corners. One of them leered her way, though he abruptly turned around from her icy cold glare as she and her boss went over to the counter.

Jacob quietly nodded at the bartender, easily catching the thrown set of keys in between his fingers before making his way upstairs with Charlotte in tow.

As he finished setting the key and opening the door with his broad shoulder, the raven-haired woman was calmer now that the room didn’t reflect much on the rowdy atmosphere of the bar. She silently surveyed the room, fingers lightly running along the oaken furniture of the vanity, admiring the intricate designs etched around the glass pane. She peered at the reflection, eyes narrowing when she looked at the wide bed behind her.

Charlotte turned around, arms crossed as she looked his way. “Where’s the other one?”

He sheepishly grinned, setting his top hat down on a chair. “They didn’t have any rooms with separate beds. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”

She sighed, sitting poised on the window nook. “It’s fine. I don’t sleep much anyway.”

“You’re one of those people?” he inquired.

The Scottish woman nodded, rubbing the back of her neck to ease the tight knot. “I’m just not used to being unguarded, especially when there are others to protect . . .”

She didn’t know what had possessed her to suddenly divulge her own history with the Frye twin, but she somehow felt strangely safer around him, and he didn’t seem like the one to judge. It just felt _natural_ talking with him, which was eerily unsettling considering she only knew him for a short time whereas she never told a breath to her friends, whom she had known for _years_. But she could see it in his eyes; concealed underneath the optimistic shine laid demons from his past that still plagued him, and she could sympathize with him.

Every tormented soul had their own demons to battle, and Charlotte was no exception.

Jacob awkwardly glanced around the room, making sure they had everything they needed before his eyes landed on hers. “Looks like everything is in order. I’ll be downstairs with the guys should you ever need me, love.”

“Hm,” she softly hummed, informing him that she had listened to every word he said. Charlotte casually propped her legs across the comfy nook, head turning out towards the barren streets while faintly listening to Jacob leave the room, locking the door behind him with a click. She brought a hand to her forehead, shutting her eyes close from the excruciating pounding inside her temple. “Why am I doing this?”

As independent as she was, she had never felt more alone than she did right now. She desperately needed someone to show her the right way, tell her what to do next when she had nothing left to offer. Everything was messed up; this gang war, the casualties lost, and her mixed feelings for Jacob.

But in the end, he would be killed off along with the others.

 _It’s inevitable,_ that small voice wickedly taunted in her ears. _You can’t stop it._

But can't she? Wasn’t there a way to salvage all the innocent lives without handing them to Nora? If there was an effective method in ridding Nora and letting her friends live peacefully, even if it meant she may or may not live, then the tall woman would gladly accept it without hesitation. But Starrick was weakening, and Nora would eventually catch up with all her men to finish this once and for all. And she would watch as the powerful madwoman executed all of the Rooks, Clara, and the twins before her very eyes, because that’s what Nora would do once she takes control of London.

“I don’t have much time,” she hissed, rapidly bringing her hand down as if it was burned by a hot poker. “Please, tell me what to do.”

Her reflection mirrored her conflicted expression from the other side, providing no response to the broken warrior, only staring back at her with haunting blue eyes that appeared vacant to the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gothic: I know, I'm a major cock-blocker
> 
> Charlotte: You're okay.
> 
> Gothic: Wait until the next chapter *winks while giggles to self*
> 
> Charlotte: . . . I don't like the sound of that . . .


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey :)
> 
> I hope everyone is having an awesome winter break! I'm glad all of my midterms are behind me as well as college apps; now I can definitely continue on my updates, and I'm so excited to write this story!
> 
> Just a heads up, this story is approaching its end soon--I'd say maybe 3-4 chapters left, maybe more. I'm getting sad thinking about it, but it was super fun writing because this is one of my favorites, and you guys are all awesome for reading, so big shout out to you :D
> 
> That's all I have to say; don't want to keep you waiting for what's up ahead. Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> WARNING: Rated E sex/smut (only this chapter)

All was eerily quiet throughout the dark room, the storm having washed away just moments ago, leaving Westminster desolate and dark. The noises downstairs soon receded as the boisterous laughters and violin plays died down, everyone retreating back into their respective rooms or left to their homes in drunken stupors.

She hadn’t said a word after the storm, just calmly listening to the raindrops dripping down the glass panel while briefly closing her eyelids shut. Releasing a shaky breath, the dark-haired woman silently got up, slowly pacing around the room in contemplation. It was getting unbearably stuffy, perspiration already beading down her skin from the humidity fogging up the room; the mirror was even starting to get blurry from the added warmth.

Her fingers deftly skimmed over the straps of her coat, unbuckling everything until the article of clothing slid down her body and fell into the palms of her hands. The Scottish woman passively threw the coat at a nearby chair, running through her already dry hair before discarding her weapons onto the table with gentle hands. After everything was in place, making sure to relieve herself from all the weight holding her down, Charlotte finally slumped onto the side of the bed with hands holding the mattress and her head bowed.

Tomorrow would surely be a new day, and everything would change after the events unfolded. She could sense it; once Jacob meets with his older twin, they would no doubt go after Starrick and the Shroud, and Nora would be ready for them. The dark-haired woman didn’t bother contacting Emily, hoping the red-head wasn’t stupid enough to come crawling back to the tavern after the kidnapping incident, though Nora might keep her on a tight leash so as to prevent any mishaps.

_She would. She wouldn’t let Emily jeopardize our whole mission, not when we’ve come this far._

Charlotte shook her head, tired of pondering over Nora, Emily, or anything else related to the Templar cause; she didn’t want to be reminded of all the sufferings she had caused onto others because of her treachery. Just thinking about Clara’s forlorn expression inside that carriage or Jacob’s murderous eyes after the little girl was kidnapped made Charlotte hate herself even more.

She rubbed at her tired eyes, hand smoothly gliding down her stiff neck while listening to the door of the room creak open, announcing _his_ presence into the room.

“I take it everything went well?” the Scottish woman lowly asked, steely blue eyes finally diverting her attention to the former male in the room, though she blinked when he abruptly fell forward, instantly rising up to catch his falling frame. “Jacob!”

His breath reeked of liquor, the strong stench invading her nostrils while he slumped further into her. A shit-eating grin sported across his face, and his glossy eyes peered closer to her, and she tried hard not to look away out of politeness. “Y-you’re here.”

“Yes.” She threw his arm around her shoulder, not caring that his head rested against the crook of her neck while she deposited him on the bed, pushing his legs onto the mattress before settling down next to him. “And you’re drunk. How many drinks did you have?”

“N-not much, a couple pints . . . maybe eleven . . .”

_Eleven?_

Charlotte was surprised how his stomach could manage with that amount of alcohol in his system; she would surely dispel everything by just drinking one or two glasses—if she even drank in the first place. But observing past his disheveled appearance, from the shining eyes to the wide grin, Charlotte noticed that Jacob wasn’t entirely drunk per say; he still had control of his speech and some of his movements weren’t entirely in disorder.

_Don’t know how he does it, but it’s impressive._

A warm hand softly touched her neck, causing the tall woman to still in her spot while acutely listening to him shuffling closer to her, the weight of the bed sinking beside her. She faintly swallowed, muscles tensing from his peculiar action as she dumbly allowed him to brush her thick hair aside, his hand coming down her shoulder until they met with hers. His fingers then cupped underneath her chin, rapidly turning her around so her light eyes could gaze into his hazel ones.

Jacob hummed to himself, stroking her chin while observing her stoic expression, though he could see her questioning gaze full of apprehension. “Such sad eyes . . .” he commented, leaning closer to feel her lightly breathe over him. “Wonder what you’ve been through . . .”

How is it that he could see past her defenses and understand what she was feeling? And wasn’t it funny how, when drunk and his mind barely functioning properly, the younger twin managed to detect her pain? It was beyond her, though she never underestimated his abilities; everyone had their own hidden talents that could surely surprise the masses, and one of Jacob’s many talents involved catching people off guard.

“Too much,” Charlotte whispered out once her lips managed to move. She almost shot up from the bed when the male assassin unexpectantly nipped at her bare neck, fingers shaking within the white sheets beneath her as his moist tongue lapped over her skin. “W-wha—”

Her words instantly died off once his lips crushed over hers, gasping into his mouth from the unexpected action. She could taste the whiskey fresh on his tongue, somehow lingering on the alluring taste. Hands clenched into the fabric of his shirt, trying to shove him off of her, yet they feebly released him when she calculated the hidden pain from the initiated kiss. Charlotte felt him calling out to her, feeling the broken wounds that were trying to open while he beseeched for her comfort, her sympathy that could instantly banish all of his burdens away.

_How broken are you?_

Even if she knew nothing about him, Charlotte could still tell through his lighthearted façade that some things will never be repaired. She may have originally thought of him as an insufferable boss who only cared about victory over his comrades, but there was this unshakable feeling that Jacob Frye wasn’t all she made out to believe. He was still suffering, and so was she.

When Jacob broke away, the dark-haired woman finally breathed, licking over her swollen lips while she stared back at his full-blown pupils. She shivered from the intense passion in his brown-green irises, a sharp pang driving into her heart.

_I’m not the one you should count on. You don’t deserve this._

“One night, love,” Jacob huskily replied, pleading to her when he noticed the woman shift in her spot from the fire in his eyes. “One night to get away from it all. No responsibilities, no doubts; nothing to hold us back.”

The room suddenly felt as if it would burst into flames after hearing his declaration. The raven-haired woman felt her skin come alive underneath her clothes, her pulse beating wildly as he continued to stare at her through half-lidded eyes, waiting for her response. She thickly swallowed when he came nearer, the latter tilting his head to better discern her reaction while his finger sinfully padded across her cheek.

He pressed his cheek against hers, his stubble faintly caressing her porcelain skin. “It doesn’t have to turn into something more, if that’s what you’re worried about . . .”

Even if he had reassured her, Charlotte could still dissect the sad undertone concealed within his words. He was just saying that to be polite, not caring about his feelings but rather placing her sentiments above his own; she appreciated the thought, yet that wasn’t what had bothered her.

She exhaustedly sighed, intertwining her fingers with his over the mattress, startling the male assassin. Her gunmetal eyes stared past him, letting herself furrow closer to his muscular frame with her head on his shoulder. “It’s not that . . . I’ve never done anything like this before . . .”

Long fingers fisted through her black locks, tugging her in front of him. His lips lightly kissed the juncture of her collarbone, using his sharp canines to teasingly trail a path up her slender neck. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

A muffled moan poured out of his mouth when the tall woman daringly touched his face, grabbing him until she firmly parted her lips over his own. Jacob groaned into the kiss as their lips hotly molded together, their erratic breathing mixing with one another. The young man darted his tongue over her lower lip, trying to push past her barrier while his hands soothingly circled her sides.

Charlotte’s eyes widened when his calloused hand slithered into her shirt, immediately letting his hot tongue dwell inside her cavern. Narrowing her eyes, the Scottish woman met him halfway, tongues battling together while their hands tightly grasped onto each other for dear life. He tasted like an addiction, her tongue consuming the aftertaste of his whiskey and her nose inhaling his musky scent. She heavily breathed when they broke apart, the British man instantly locking her knees onto the mattress on either side of him as their clothed sexes deliciously rubbed against one another, earning strained gasps from both of them.

The candlelight flickered in the darkness, slowly dimming away as the wax cascaded down the melting candlestick. Meanwhile, the two people were so engrossed in one another they didn’t pay any heed to the diminishing light, instead furthering their desires in the dark where they could mask all of their sorrows without judgment.

Her chest heaved from the immeasurable pleasure, the sensation so foreign to her yet exhilarating at the same time. She blinked when the man underneath slung her shirt over her head, her arms withdrawing from her sleeves as the flimsy material was carelessly thrown aside, and Charlotte instinctively covered her exposed breasts. The raven-haired woman shyly turned her head away from his deep chuckle, her eyes glowering from the side while her shoulders flushed.

“No need to hide.” Jacob affectionately nibbled her neck, sucking as he applied more pressure.

Goosebumps erupted all over her skin, causing the young woman to shiver. She bit her lower lip as his breath ghosted over her arms, leisurely taking her wrists and prying them away from her protective hold. Elegant fingers coursed through his dark brown hair, shaking against his scalp while he ventured further down her body. The Scottish woman finally found the courage to glance back at him, noticing the way he licked his lips from examining her generous chest, hazel eyes greedily soaking it all in.

Something warm and wet enveloped her nipple, and it took every ounce of her will to not cry out from the way his mouth latched onto her. Charlotte gritted her teeth, her knees buckling beside him as he continued his wicked ministrations. His large hands gently held her in place, preventing her from shifting around while he took his generous time in pleasing her. She arched into him when he playfully bit down, face slightly turning red as she lightly swatted at his head, making the young man amusedly chuckle against her.

“Sorry love,” the male assassin whispered, gently kissing the side of her breast before repeating the same process to the other one, lathering it with his saliva.

The raven-haired woman didn’t think she could take any more of his treatment; her skin was highly enflamed from all his caresses and her body was so responsive to every one of them, and she couldn’t help herself but imagine what it must feel like having him inside of her. At the thought, Charlotte brusquely bucked her hips against him, shuddering when he loudly cursed from the unexpected move.

“Shit, you really love torturing me, don’t you?” Jacob removed himself from her breasts, hands wandering down her long torso until they snaked into the waistband of her pants. He grinned, examining her composed expression, though her body betrayed her as thin trails of sweat journeyed down her neck. But he longed to see her pretty face contort in pleasure, and he was going to make sure he got the chance to see it with his own eyes.

Charlotte’s eyes curiously reflected over the devilish grin on his face, never breaking eye contact from his challenging hazel orbs while his fingers aimlessly roved over sex. Her spine rigidly stood, her breath caught in her throat and nails deathly gripping onto his back. He was relentless in his assault, never bothering to ease his hold on her.

“Jacob!” she hissed, profusely sweating when his fingers brushed against her underwear in slow circles. A light moan escaped past her dark lips, shutting her eyes while clutching the sheets tighter. She felt herself growing wet as the man tauntingly rubbed her through the damp fabric, tasting the metallic substance on her lips from biting too hard.

“That’s right, love,” Jacob goaded, taking her flushed chest and pulling it against his broader body, feeling her slightly panting above him. He snuck a finger inside the undergarment, wasting no time in inserting it inside of her. A deep groan left his mouth, his stubble burrowing into her neck to inhale her natural scent as he felt her sex pulling him in. “Damn, you’re tight.”

Her toes curled from his aggressive touch, writhing on top of him when he pumped harder and faster, adding more fingers into her. The wetness between her thighs started to accumulate, and juices leaked onto his knuckles, effectively allowing better access inside her clit. She jumped when his fingers stroked that special place inside of her, letting out a heavy moan into his ear.

Meanwhile, Jacob cherished all of the agonized sounds she made as he thrusted his fingers in and out of her—they were music to his ears. His cock strained against his pants, making it unbearably tight, and he desperately craved for the added release once their sexes joined. He lowly growled, picking up pace until he was sure the warrior on top of him couldn’t stand the torture. Her walls contracted around him, and it wouldn’t be long before she would meet her sweet release.

Charlotte’s vision blurred before her, her body going tense and her hands slacking behind him. She gripped onto the back of his shirt, sedately rolling her hips along to his languid strokes. Before she can fully collapse onto him, a sudden coldness hit against her lower body as he pulled away; her back harshly met the mattress below her, bleary eyes watching the male assassin tug her pants over her ankles along with her undergarment.

The ringing noise in her ears heightened, elbows weakly situated beside her body so she could rise a bit. Icy blue eyes traced over his serious expression that rivaled her own, panicking when he dangerously crawled closer, potently ensnaring her thighs apart.

“What are you doing?” The Scottish woman quizzically watched him, struggling to retract her legs away from his constrictive grip.

“It’s alright.” His accent made her body quake, warm breath fanning over her thighs, gently calming her down while he left sloppy kisses trailing closer to her heated core. Before she had any time left to protest, Jacob already plunged his tongue inside of her, earning a prolonged moan from the young woman above.

Heat pooled across her skin, cheeks flaming from the lewd display of Jacob eating her out. Locking her legs behind his neck, Charlotte brought him closer to her core, immediately seizing his brown locks to distract herself from the breathy moans below her. _Why do people do this?_ She half-wondered, though she didn’t mind the immense euphoria coursing through her veins from the sensual act, finding the slow build up resurfacing from earlier.

Meanwhile, Jacob had slowly stopped in his blissful reveries, lapping up her sweet essence in long, lazy licks. His fingers pierced through her thighs that held onto him, grasping them while letting his mouth eagerly soak up her juices. Only when he felt her shaking on the brink of her impending orgasm did the assassin hungrily eat everything she had to offer.

The raven-haired woman panted, shuddering as she finally felt her aching sex ride out her release. Taking her hands out of Jacob’s hair, Charlotte let her fingers twist within the covers below her, inclining her head to the side with her eyes closed. Her black hair matted against her exposed torso, clinging onto her sweaty skin that increased in temperature from the muggy air, the smell of sex vacating the room. She focused on her labored breathing, hearing her relieved sighs resonate in the quiet room along with Jacob’s soft humming as he finished drinking her cum.

Her muscles rippled from the satisfying feel of his mouth rising across her stomach, his tongue delving over the expanse skin available to him. She cringed, legs crashing down onto the mattress while he rose on his knees, looking upon him removing the green vest and white cotton shirt underneath with skillful fingers. The tall woman blushed from the trail of dark hair across his masculine chest, unconsciously roaming her eyes from the tattoo and down to where the hairs peeked into his dark pants.

The shilling coin slapped against his thick neck, the cool pendant coldly pressing against his skin. But seeing her glazed eyes inspecting every inch of his skin, even bravely gazing down to his waist, sent blood pooling to his swelling groin. He salaciously licked his lips, still tasting her cum on his lips as he grew harder, and both effects doubled his fueling desire for the warrior. Jacob relished in on her sharp intake, slyly grinning to himself before fumbling with the last clothing on him.

Charlotte winced, trying to regain feeling in her lower half of her body; she clutched onto the sheets for support while she mutely rose, sitting in place and watching the man disrobe in front of her. Her jaw clenched together from seeing his thick cock sprung free, paling as she wondered how it would ever fit inside her.

Jacob noticed her distress, gently bringing her forward and chastely kissing her, gripping her thick hair between his fingers. “Trust me,” he hoarsely whispered against her lips, notwithstanding the aching sensation between his legs, wanting to just meld together and rid all of his pain.

She quietly nodded, softly kissing the side of his sweaty neck before whispering, “Okay.”

He turned them around so he could dominate on top, hovering over her toned body until their skins touched one another. His stubble tickled her chin, swiftly capturing her parted red lips and stroking her tongue with his before letting his leaking tip enter her womb, immediately breaking through her tight barrier.

The Scottish woman instantly winced in pain, hissing inside his mouth while her fingers roughly raked over his broad back, no doubt leaving red marks behind. She heavily breathed once they broke apart, relaxing a bit when he huskily whispered soothing words into her ear, trying to calm the rigid woman before gently starting slow. Once she was confident the uncomfortable feeling subsided completely, Charlotte encouragingly patted his back, lightly caging his mouth with hers as they groaned together in bliss.

Large fingers warmly smoothed over her hips, wet noises erupting all over the room along with their synced breathing. Her back gracefully arched into him, their bodies piecing together and fluidly moving against one another in perfect unison. She didn’t mind when the young man started getting rough, hips diluting faster and faster, allowing him to release all of his frustrations clouding his thoughts. Closing her eyes while their tongues danced, she was shocked to lick at the salty substance that trickled onto her chin, feeling her long eyelashes getting wetter against his moist cheeks.

But none of them bothered to care, letting their minds cleanse from their miseries.

“Mm.” They breathed together as if they shared one breath, shattering all of their restraints and just basking in on the passionate feeling.

After prolonging their sex for almost a few hours, both parties decided to slow down in their movements, tiredly holding onto one another while finishing with their coupling. Charlotte’s back grinded against the bed as he took his time plunging in and out of her, gritting her teeth from his agonizing strokes while her blood and cum mixed with his juices. Her blood boiled, walls tightly squeezing his pounding flesh, hearing him lowly curse against her.

“J-Jacob,” she whined, gasping as she finally orgasmed all over him. Her fingers clasped behind his head, long legs entrapping his robust waist closer to her while she came, her slick fluids hotly escaping past her clit.

“God, Charlotte.” He bit down on her neck, leisurely coating her skin with his tongue as he increased his tempo. He gave one long moan before crying out, slumping against her and expelling his thick cum inside of her before they buckled against one another onto the pillows.

The sky was pitch black from beyond the hazy glass pane, and their labored breaths intruded the silence of the night. She shifted underneath him, hands softly stroking over the nape of his neck as his eyes drooped from her heavenly touches. The dark-haired woman felt him shift a bit, easing himself off of her so she wouldn't be crushed by his weight.

And when she peered into his shining hazel eyes looking at her with pure joy, Charlotte only drew within herself, not wanting him to feel that way about her when she did nothing but ruin everything he had worked hard to achieve.

_I'm sorry._

Jacob softly kissed her lips before burrowing his face into the crook of her neck, large hands dragging her close to his sticky body. He didn’t say anything, just caressing her in his embrace while their jaded eyes hopelessly wished to succumb to slumber. "I love you," he genuinely whispered after a while, making the young woman snap her head up just when his eyelids closed, his light breathing skimming over her scalp.

She stayed wide awake that night, hands gripping onto his chest in comfort while watching him peacefully sleeping as if nothing could hurt him, his past thoughts long forgotten in this intimate moment. Her gunmetal blue eyes sadly traced over the soft smile across his face, fingers rising to rub over his chin.

“When the time is right, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me,” the Scottish woman whispered into his ear, mouth set in a thin line while closing her eyes and allowing the agony to stab at her heart before descending into the darkness. “I’m sorry.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and a happy holiday to all! Along with my candy canes and warm hugs that I'm passing around, here is another treat for you guys :D

As soon as the morning light filtered inside the room, Charlotte wasted no time in rising from the bed to get dressed, deliberately ensuring that her movements didn’t wake the sleeping male beside her. She pressed a hand against her forehead, long locks curtaining around her while she cringed from the bright light basking in the dark room. The young woman slowly removed the covers off her naked body, gazing disapprovingly at the blotches of blood on her skin. She sighed, skimming for the cloth by the night table and rubbing the stains away.

Her eyes stayed glued to the floor in front of her, wincing a bit when she then shrugged her dark pants over her bruised hips, the aching sensation between her legs still throbbing from last night. Her fingers lightly trailed over her injuries, closing her eyes to rid the graphic images of their passionate encounter, wondering why she ever allowed for things to escalate this far.

“You only made it worse for yourself,” Charlotte whispered, shaking away her black locks behind her before continuing to dress herself, picking up the rest of her discarded clothes from the cold ground and then taking her weapons from the table.

If only she had the courage to dismiss his offer, she wouldn’t be feeling more withdrawn than she did right now. The raven-haired woman could’ve forced him to sleep off the alcohol while she kept watch by the nook, perfectly alone and away from his presence that seemed to want to latch onto her. No matter how much she wanted to despise the British man, Charlotte couldn’t unreasonably blame him for all this; it was her decision to accept his proposal, she was the one to once again bury herself further into the dark abyss and suffer.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she remarked, memories from her childhood suddenly resurfacing to mind. The horrified screams gnawed at her mind, consuming every hopeful desire she ever had with the numbing cold; all the years she had secluded herself away from everyone due to her grief had effectively broken her beyond repair, or at least that’s what she had originally thought.

Charlotte felt the tears hotly sting the corners of her eyes, teeth clenching in frustration while her nails tightly dug into the fabric of her britches, hands shaking from the pressure. Vacant orbs stared out into the window in front of her, glancing upon her battered form in the reflection while the sun peaked higher in the morning sky. Fresh marks blemished across her neck, scattering down into her shirt and away from sight, though the pain was still there in her heart. Despite all the warmth the sun’s rays could provide for her, the Scottish woman only turned the other away, feeling a tear trickle down her cheek while she impassively stared at the melted candle by the vanity.

_I thought I had moved on, but it seems I was foolish to ever believe that._

His loud groan made her jump, head snapping back to her sleeping companion with his cheek sinking further into the fluffy white mass. From this angle, inspecting the tranquility on his face as he peacefully dozed off, Charlotte couldn’t help but faintly smile from his innocence. He had worked so hard to bring about a better tomorrow for everyone throughout London and to rid the corruption brought about by the Templars alongside his comrades that is was very rare to see him so at ease. If only this moment could last . . .

“Never give up,” she whispered to him before grabbing her boots by the bedpost.

The Scottish woman stilled when his arm casually rolled over to the empty side, his hand bunching into the fabric, probably trying to locate her. Her fingers hastily rubbed at her tired eyes, wiping away any evidence before rushing to put on her boots. After finishing the last straps, Charlotte rose from the bed and trudged towards the door, holding onto her weapons so they wouldn’t rattle too much.

_Hopefully I’ve been wrong, and maybe he’s too drunk to remember any of this._

Her hand remained immobile over the brass handle, remembering that she couldn’t waltz out of the room without knowing where the Shroud was located. As much as she had wanted to leave and save herself the trouble of talking with him over what happened, Jacob was her only hope in ever succeeding; Charlotte needed to make sure the younger twin meets with his sister so she could follow through on their plans like a shadow. It was her only chance to finish this once and for all.

But did she want to?

So many scenarios played out in her head, fully questioning herself on what she can do to escape from all of this. The _Seven Bells_ tavern wasn’t too far from here, the woman reasoned, thinking she could get Milly with enough time to escape town. But where would that leave Emily and Gregory, whom were both under Nora’s watchful eyes? If word ever got out of her abandoning London, abandoning her cause, Nora would immediately suspect treason; their lives would be taken away from her, and Charlotte lost too many loved ones to ever let it happen again.

She had nowhere else to run.

“Love?”

A shiver crawled down her spine, stiffening in her spot from his deep voice that groggily called out for her attention. Her hand limply fell to her side, and she slowly pivoted around to face at the exhausted male sitting up on the bed and rubbing at his disheveled hair. Charlotte turned her head to the side, swallowing as the sheets dipped down his bare torso to show the curve of his hips.

“You’re finally awake,” the dark-haired woman levelly replied, shifting in place from his speculative stare that roamed over her attire. “Aren’t you forgetting that you have to meet your sister?”

Jacob’s eyes widened, his feet already springing off the bed with ease. The Scottish woman mutely heard the rustling of clothes, forcing herself to not gaze back at his naked form as he hurriedly dressed in front of her. In an instant he was by her side, grasping onto her chin so she could fully face him. It didn’t help that he was dangerously close, and she unconsciously inhaled the British man’s aroma, which was combined with his musky scent and sweat, among all other pronounced smells from their heated sex.

His hazel eyes narrowed, seeing the torment in her slightly glazed eyes, wondering if she had been crying. The male assassin swallowed, feeling her stand rigidly still underneath him and strongly looking at him without any hint of emotion, once again concealing herself from him. “Charlotte, everything alright?”

Her hands gently gripped onto his wrist, retracting his hand away from her face as she silently nodded. “Fine. Let’s just get you out of here.”

“ . . . Is it about last night?”

Goosebumps prickled across her skin, holding her breath when the young man in front of her grasped onto her neck, brushing into the collar of her shirt to massage over the hickey. Nothing ever seemed to stop him from trying to reach out to the broken warrior, wanting her to open up and trust him with her scars, but she feared if he scrutinized every detail then he would see her for what she truly was.

“I don’t regret it,” Jacob lowly whispered, hazel eyes expectantly observing her composed reaction for any signs that she felt the same way.

The way he had said it without any trace of sarcasm or irony just ate away at her heart, once again reminding her of her callous deeds. Maybe in another lifetime she would’ve said those same words if she was any other woman; it also didn’t feel right openly expressing them when he only assumed she was innocent from all the horrible events spiraling their way, not the conniving person who had a major part in the madness. She was still the same woman he wanted to kill with his own hands, whether he suspected it or not.

The Scottish woman only detached herself from his body, thrusting the door open behind her without glancing at his face. “We’ll talk later. I promise.”

If only he knew how much a promise can easily be shattered.

 

People merrily conversed with one another, complementing each other’s attires while casually sipping form their champagne glasses. Men and women danced outside by the gardens, skipping along to the violin music playing in the background. The full moon gazed upon the spectacle, shining down on the silhouettes entering through the front entrance of the palace.

Evie followed her brother through all the excitement, her red dress swaying below her feet as she moved. She tried to catch up with Jacob, though she sensed an unshakable feeling that something was bothering her twin, for he refused to halt in his steps and face her. _Something’s wrong, he just won’t tell me what._

She didn’t know what to expect when Jacob came back to their train hideout, immediately berating him for being behind on their hunt for the artifact. Why couldn’t he understand that the world rested in the balance of the Shroud, and with Starrick trying to hunt it down, they could very well meet their doom? No matter how many times she wasted her breath over the subject, her younger brother always had an excuse to shrug off her righteous teachings. Jacob hadn’t cared for her lashings, instead bitterly scorning her and rushing out of the train to find the necessary materials for tonight’s gala.

“Jacob.” Evie gently grabbed her brother’s arm, startled when he aggressively pried away from her. “Jacob, you need to tell me what’s wrong. I’m worried—”

“Oh, now you’re worried about me?” she cringed from his hiss, never seeing him so riled up before; even if they had numerous fights in the past, he was never this cruel. “Save your feelings for later. I need to be alone.”

A forceful tug against his sleeve had the younger twin step back from his sister’s manhandling, and he raised a questioning eyebrow at the frown lines scaring Evie’s face. “I don’t need this, Jacob. We’re on a mission to find the Shroud, yet your mind isn’t focused on it. Now, you better tell me what’s troubling you or else we can continue on silently and not cause a scene.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, fisting a hand through his hair. The male assassin didn’t want to tell Evie of his constant demons eating away at his mind, especially when a newer one involved the tall Scottish woman who managed to worm her way into his every waking thought. All he wanted was to understand what had conflicted her, wishing to dismantle her defenses and make her feel with her heart what he was feeling right now.

_Why does she always seem so alone?_

But the raven-haired woman somehow drifted further away from him as they departed from one another that morning, and it didn’t help that the events from last night had made his whole body on fire and think about her more often. Jacob couldn’t remember the last time he saw that same look of utter despair masked behind someone unwilling to be fazed by their past; it had felt eons ago since he reflected through the surface.

And it resembled the same haunted expression he once used as a young child facing the horrors of the world.

“Nothing,” he finally concluded, shrugging his sister’s arm off of him. “I’m off to meet Freddy.”

Evie sighed, shaking her head from his stubborn behavior, though she wished him luck before venturing further into the night, searching for the plans leading to the vault.

A shadow loomed over the rooftops, intently watching the exchange between the siblings. She crouched on one knee, gunmetal blue eyes narrowing over the older twin disappearing back inside the palace, no doubt trying to find hidden clues to the Shroud’s location. Her ears perked up from the soft footsteps behind her, not turning around to face the male while searching through the crowd. “Find anything?”

Gregory shook his head, sitting down next to her. “None of Nora’s men detected any hidden entrances. Our best bet is to proceed once Starrick is found.”

“Don’t bother, Evie retreated back inside the palace. With any luck, she might have leads to the entrance.” Charlotte withdrew her pistol from the confines of her holster, surveying the calm footsteps of the palace guards as they stiffly patrolled the rooftops across from their hiding space. “And Milly?”

“She’s safe and sound. We had them come by the tavern and pick her up.” The blonde male placed a hand over her shoulder, concern flitting across his ocean green eyes when he felt her slightly tremble from the gentle gesture. “Charlotte, I’ve known you for over five years, and I can tell that something is bothering you. We’re partners; you know you can count on me . . .”

The raven-haired woman sighed, reluctantly gazing back at her companion with tired eyes. Her head finally rested against his shoulders, closing her eyes while their hands connected above his knee. “I know, but this is something you can’t fix.”

As the sky grew darker, and the party slowly diminishing, the two teammates remained on the roof patiently waiting for their chance. Evie hadn’t returned from the palace, thus giving them ample time to comfortably talk about their troubles and everything that had transpired since the brawl. Throughout their conversation, the blonde male was relieved to finally see the stoic woman faltering after she discussed the events after the ball, opening up more than he’s ever seen her. Nothing had made him happier than seeing Charlotte let go of her worries, not wanting her to revert back to the distant teenager he grew up with.

His eyebrows furrowed when he had asked for more detail on where she went with their “leader”, noticing how the young woman refused to elaborate more, but she silently gazed down at the party below them, abruptly growing deathly quiet. Gregory observed how her fingers roamed over the ends of her sleeve that only circled around the top skin as she dodged his question, and he can't help wondering what she's been through. He didn’t want to pry, knowingly sealing his mouth shut while his ocean eyes quizzically stared at a certain female in the crowd with Starrick. “Charlotte . . .”

The Scottish woman noticed it too, instantly rising from her position while assisting her brother. Her light eyes glowered at the guards several yards away, their weapons precisely aimed at the dancing pair. “We need to be careful. Starrick has them well guarded.”

“Let’s hurry, before _he_ catches us as well.” His head gestured towards the male assassin dashing across the yard towards them, hiding his form in the shadows.

They rapidly slid down the harsh stones, skillfully leaping off the platform and entering through the front door when the guards were too busy inviting people inside to notice them. Charlotte ignored the faint murmurs coursing all around as she followed her friend, mostly from the haughty female socialites giggling at her informal wear. They could mock for all she cared, her goals were set on the mission at hand.

When they turned a corner, she watched the familiar red-head bustling across the threshold in her flowing golden gown, tugging on Gregory’s arm. They rushed towards her, finally taking notice of the rugged ruffians she was being escorted by. “Emily?”

“Charlotte, Gregory,” the Irishwoman awkwardly shifted, patting the men’s arms and watching them disperse throughout the corridors. “Found anythin’?”

Gregory nodded. “Yes. As of now, we found the female assassin with Starrick, but it’s probable that she already knows where the entrance is located. All we have to do is simply follow.”

The raven-haired woman studied Emily’s strange antics, noticing her eyes constantly peering to the side and her hands fumbling with her petticoats, practically seeing her skin pale under pressure. _She wouldn’t act like this, not unless . . ._

“A job well done, Mr. Knight,” a deep voice smoothly replied from behind, heels sinfully scraping across the marble floor.

Charlotte clenched her jaw, willing herself to not lose control over finally meeting Nora face to face. Her fingers itched beside her, not allowing to be squared away by the elder lady’s perpetual scowl and dark eyes curiously roaming over the grandeur of the palace. How long has it been since she’s seen Nora?

 _Don’t know, but she doesn’t look too good,_ the Scottish woman mentally replied, taking note of the wrinkles across Nora’s face and the bags underneath her eyes from lack of sleep.

A wicked grin sported across the lady’s wide face, hands clasped in front of her. “Such a shame, this dreadful palace isn’t nearly as big for our new empire. Excellent work as usual, Ms. Faulkner. You never cease to amaze me.”

The raven-haired woman silently nodded, letting their leader strut in front of them with her hands waving to her men, roughly grabbing onto the collars of their dirtied shirts. “You know what to do,” she heard Nora rasp out, mutely following the madwoman out into the gardens while listening to the deep chuckles and the clicks of their guns echoing within her mind.

Screams blanketed the atmosphere, people collapsing onto the ground one by one from the curdling shots of bullets slicing through their bodies. Blood splattered all over the floor, seeping into the stone cracks and pooling over onto the fresh green lawn. More men appeared from all directions of the palace, manically laughing as they fired at everyone in sight, including the royal guards attempting to escape. Some managed to elude the bullets, wasting no time in informing their queen of the ongoing bloodshed.

Nora simply looked around in awe, not fazed that the elder twin and Starrick were already long gone before she arrived. She darkly chuckled to herself at the corpses piled on top of each other while her heels clicked over the stone path. “What a glorious sight to behold. Can’t you just imagine all of London cowering before us? I can just taste our victory.”

A shaky breath escaped past her parted lips, her gunmetal eyes watching a helpless man feebly raising his bloodied hand out to them, crimson fluid coughing out of his mouth and staining his white shirt. She should’ve gotten used to the sight, having witnessed the same encounter countless of times in the past, but Charlotte swallowed from seeing herself reflected from his glossy eyes, her skin growing pale as he limped closer.

“P-please . . .” he pleaded, gasping for breath while holding his gaze on her stone face.

The gunshot shrieked in the air, the young woman slightly cringing from watching the man’s head blown to bits from the bullet that lodged itself into his skull. She faintly heard Emily’s choked sob, envisioning the sensitive red-head with a hand over her gaping mouth and tears welling in her eyes. Nothing felt more horrific than watching the light fade from his wide eyes, the blood rapidly bathing the ground around the body.

Nora snorted, sheathing her gun back in the belt holster. “Pathetic scum. We have no use for weaklings like him. C’mon then, all of you, before Starrick grabs hold of the relic.”

After finishing their task, the rest of the convicts heavily stepped behind the prominent gang making their way through the pasture, licking their soiled teeths in anticipation. Their razored knives sinfully rested against their meaty arms as they walked, beady eyes darting to the sides, looking for any signs of fresh meat.

“Boss, where are you taking us?” Gregory brushed aside the low-hanging trees, wiping away the stray leaves that tangled in his curly locks.

“To the vault. That shrewd Lucy wasn’t very clever in hiding the Shroud’s destination, and I managed to steal all of her notes. Took a while to decipher them,” she bitterly spat, kicking away a few pebbles from her path. The female gang leader smirked to herself, eyes shining at the vault entrance ahead of her. She proudly stood over the iron gate, the flames from the scorches flaring her devilish appearance. Hands worked over the prodigious door, smiling to herself from the discarded chains on the ground. “They’re here. Alright scoundrels, follow me.”

Emily paled, tentatively laying her hand on Nora’s arm while cringing from the woman's stern gaze. “What would ye ‘ave us do, ma’am?”

“Not to worry, Emily. You’ve done enough for today; wait here with Gregory.” The red-head breathed a sigh of relief, nodding while she latched onto Gregory’s arm, shielding her face from the men leering at her cowering form.

A cold hand tightly gripped onto Charlotte’s shoulder, her eyes impassively staring into Nora’s dark brown ones. Even if the woman hadn’t made the effort in ordering her around, the dark-haired warrior consciously knew what her requirements would be in all of this. “When do you want me to appear?” she lowly whispered.

Nora crookedly smirked, nails digging into her shoulder. “Just in time to witness their utter demise once they discover where your true loyalty stands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love cliffhangers; wonder what'll happen next, though I already know ;)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gothic: Okay, all I have to say is this: please don't hate me! Prepare for some feels in this chapter.
> 
> Charlotte: ?
> 
> Gothic: *sheepishly smiles* Sorry, I don't like being too predictable and this wouldn't leave my head :') But I promise the ending will be happyish, so that should compensate? If you ever need a hug after this, don't hesitate in asking! :D

Cold air washed over the lone woman as she silently walked across the murky chamber, the feeling clinging onto her skin and digging through her bones. Shadows danced across the walls behind her, hungrily waiting to consume her from the fire’s protection. Water dripped from the ceiling, creating ripples over the minuscule puddles before being splashed by her boots and distorting her image.

Her fingers clasped onto the metallic pistol, tapping the weapon against her side. She exhaustedly sighed, acutely listening for any noises from either passageways. The route leading through the vault was a hassle to get through, especially when every course she took looked vaguely familiar than the last. Her leader and the rest of her men were somewhere beyond the massive chamber, probably acquainted with the twins and Starrick.

Was the Templar even alive? How long has she spent walking alone through the forbidden corridor?

Time was obsolete in this ominous cavern, for not even the moon’s glow could penetrate past the jagged surfaces. Charlotte was fortunate to follow the torches’ path, the flickers of orange light leading her deeper into the unknown, but with every step she took she felt herself sink further into oblivion. Suddenly, her vision wasn’t looking at the rocks narrowing before her, but rather imagining the rain down-pouring over her body while she skeptically watched the raven-haired girl that appeared from nowhere. The girl was crouched onto the sodden ground, raindrops slithering down her chin with her head bent low, layers of black hair shrouding her eyes.

Only when the girl raised her head did the tall woman recognize the soulless yellow irises, blotches of blood coating her hands, and the sinister grin etching across her face like some feral wolf madly craving to be released.

 _No._ The Scottish woman shook her head, not wanting the madness to consume her. Nora may have offered her an allegiance with the Templars, but she refused to become crazed with power like all the others. She’d follow through on her tasks without question, slaughtering anyone they deemed necessary to eliminate if she had to, but she wouldn’t let her mind become corrupt with greed and chaos.

Her friends reluctantly waited by the entrance, fervently asking if Charlotte was comfortable fulfilling Nora’s wishes. They sensed her unease, especially considering the task at hand would finally reveal their true allegiance, and both didn’t want to see the raven-haired woman suffer any longer. She had only nodded, reassuring them that they needn’t worry about her safety before venturing down the cave in utter silence.

Faint murmurs resonated from the left side, and she quietly hurried through the narrow passage where it converged into the main chamber. Icy blue eyes anxiously peered from the balcony, setting her sights on the twins by the elongated chest, their arms protectively shielding the Shroud from Nora’s eyes. Henry laid on the floor, clutching his chest in pain while glowering at the madwoman and her armed henchmen surrounding the entire temple. None of them peered her way, eyes trained on the culprit in front of them.

Charlotte stealthily moved from column to column, moving a bit closer to the scene while keeping her distance. Absolute silence followed with every calculated step she took, using the shadows as her guide. She placed a finger to her lips when one of Nora’s men curiously peered her way, nodding for him to stay quiet and flashing the gun in her hand for him to see. The ruffian toothily grinned, remaining perfectly still before whispering to the others of her plot.

_And now I wait._

Nora loudly laughed, stretching her arms wide as her boots stomped across the stone. “How idiotic. Wasting a perfectly good power like eternal life over family. You are both as predictable as that cad lying in his pool of blood,” she hissed, gun dramatically pointed at the corpse behind the twins.

“Nora,” Evie started, shakily holding her brother’s arm in order to steady herself. “You were supposed to be dead . . .”

“Was I?” The madwoman cackled, pacing left and right as she studied the two assassins in front of her with distaste. “Seems you’re getting sloppy with your handiwork. Now, are you going to step aside, or do I have to pry you both apart with my bare hands?”

Sweat beaded down Charlotte’s neck, the gun suddenly feeling heavier in her palms; she could hear the silver bullets clattering against one another, the noise making her tongue grow dry. Her spine rigidly kissed the cool surface concealing her from view, her eyes fixated on the ceiling above her after hearing Nora’s venomous words ring throughout the entire cavern.

Jacob bravely stepped forward, retracting his hidden blades while glaring at the gang leader. “Where is Clara?”

The female villain smirked, hands placed on top of her hips. “None of your concern, Mr. Frye.”

“I swear I’ll kill you like I did to Starrick for—”

“For what?” she taunted, chuckling to herself. “You believe that weakling took your friend? Honestly, I thought you were smarter than that.”

Was this the time to reveal herself, or should she stay hidden and wait for a sign from her men? Either way, her legs remained rooted in place, as if they’ve transformed to lead. The mere mention of Clara’s name took a heavy toll to her heart, praying the brunette was still alive and well.

Following the mute pause from the younger twin, Nora took the time to slither across the stone path, retracting her arm out to them. “I don’t have time for dilly-dallying, Mr. Frye. Hand over the Shroud to me. Now.”

“Not a chance.”

“Hm, very well then. Hope you enjoy hell.”

All of Nora’s lackeys trained their weapons on the twins, darkly chuckling to themselves with their fingers pressed against the triggers, slowly itching to take the kill. The twins could only gulp from the pressure, eyes darting across the room to locate anything that could lead to their chance of survival. Evie’s hands gently cupped onto the smoke bomb attached behind her back, feeling the round ball weigh heavily in her grasp, but even the female assassin knew she couldn’t very well use it since they had no time to drag an injured Henry and escape before bullets were fired. She couldn't use any other weapon; not even the electricity grenades could encompass the entire room, for the men were too spread out.

They were trapped.

Nora’s eyes narrowed, grinning to herself as she dangerously stepped closer, but her breath stilled in her throat from the distinct gun clicking behind her, the object harshly pressed against the back of her neck. “Ms. Faulkner,” she hoarsely replied, hands drawing away from her body, refusing to glance back. “You do know how to make an entrance.”

“Drop it,” the Scottish woman lowly stated, gunmetal eyes frowning at the henchmen aiming their pistols at her. “And call off your men, unless you want to choke in your own blood.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“You tell me. With you dead, who else would fulfill your task in taking over London? You’re not one for sharing absolute power but with yourself,” she coyly reasoned, digging the gun deeper into her spine.

Nora clicked her tongue, restraining a seething growl from flowing past her lips. “Weapons down!” she barked, glaring at her imbecile men for standing around with confused faces. “Oh, for the love of—I said weapons down!”

The dark-haired woman breathed a sigh of relief when everyone reluctantly did as they were told, all of them crouching onto the floor to place their guns out in front of them. Her icy eyes tried to stay focused on the calm woman held in her grasp, but she couldn’t stop the prickling feeling of her nerves spiking on edge from briefly watching the twins grin at one another from the spectacle.

Jacob shook his head, arms moving away from the chest housing the Piece of Eden. “It seems you’ve lost again, Nora.”

The cold chuckle coming from Nora made Charlotte turn her head away in shame, glowering at the tiles in front of her to prevent seeing his startled face; he clearly wasn't expecting the madwoman to still be amused by all of this. Fingers tightly clenched onto the handle of the gun, slightly easing from Nora. “I never lose,” she heard her leader remark. “Did you honestly believe I would turn a blind eye to all of your crazy antics? The gang wars on the streets, the murders of my brothers, destroying every piece of Templar property—I’ve seen it all! I was scheming, rallying up the remaining men right before your very eyes, yet you haven’t suspected a single thing! And it was all thanks to _her_.”

She felt the tension of the atmosphere thicken when Nora referred to her, shrouding her body and constricting every organ in her system until she couldn't say a single word. Nothing could ever describe the strained pressure presented before her, and she breathed deeply before fully facing the twins through narrowed eyes. As expected, their wide eyes and gaping mouths didn’t alleviate her pain, though she perfectly masked it behind her outer exterior.

 “N-no . . . that’s not possible . . .” The male assassin stumbled back, placing his hand against the chest while his sister visibly paled beside him.

Nora gave a satisfied smirk, showing off her white teeth. “If there is one thing I take pride in is the loyalty of my men. They always remain servient to me, no matter who tries to command them. _Always_.”

“You’re lying.”

Everyone cackled from the petrified look on the male’s face before curiously eyeing the raven-haired warrior to see how she would react, though the grim expression she sported instantly shut them up. Nora too laughed from the pitiful cry; she loved it when her captives were cowering before her in defeat, ignorant to the truth laid out in front of them. They could try to deny it all they want, but the evidence was clear as day.

“Did you really believe Ms. Faulkner to be a sensitive chit? She’s a soldier through and through; she doesn’t need petty emotions to hold her back from her purpose. Right boys?” The female leader soaked in on their immediate consents, power surging through her veins as she humiliated the younger twin. Her eyebrow rose from seeing the gangster glowering at her, noticing the way his knuckles turned white. “Ah, don’t tell me . . . You fancy her? Such a shame, knowing she would be the one to end your life.”

The ringing in her ears refused to go away, blistering her mind and blocking out the conversation. She released a shaky breath, studying the hurt flashing across his hazel eyes, but other strong emotions were also at play. Charlotte could discern the anguish, the sadness, but most of all the burning hatred layering over above the rest. If only she could wipe away this horrible outcome, reverse everything to when she and her friends joined the gang, but this time there wouldn't be any more pretense.

But even she knew how unrealistic that sounded; there wasn't any room for hope anymore, not after all of this.

Her head veered away from him, shutting her eyes closed as the gun weakly fell to her side, finally showing him her true colors. _Sorry._

In an instant, surprised shouts from the henchmen had the warrior rapidly crane her head at the darting silhouette trying to reach their boss, blades retracted out as he lunged for her. Without hesitation, the raven-haired woman open fired over Nora’s shoulder, eyes trying to see past the specks of dust particles gathering in the air. They slowly vanished along with the male figure, who tumbled to the ground clutching at his injured leg where the bullet embedded itself into. His strained cry haunted her thoughts, hopelessly watching the henchmen harshly grabbing the assassins away from the chest.

“Henry!” Evie thrashed against the constrictive hold, about to grab a weapon from her pouch when a sharp fist knocked her out, her body slumping over the man’s gigantic frame. Her brother immediately growled, cursing at the criminal for hurting his sister before gasping at the sharp needle shoved against his neck. Like his twin, Jacob’s body fell limp, allowing for the drug to take effect as his eyes sealed shut.

Nora proudly held her head high, watching the struggle from afar. “I want them taken back to headquarters. If they somehow manage to escape from your watch, your heads won’t be the only things sliced off.”

“Yes, ma’am,” one of them gulped, leading his comrades and the prisoners out of the chamber.

All was quiet throughout the cavern once they disappeared back through the passageway; the unsettling silence after everything that had transpired made her sick. Images of Jacob’s murderous eyes and Henry’s scream only made her feel even more disgusted with herself, yet she chose to continue down this dark path on her own, and everyone she met along the way suffered for her mistakes. No matter the end result, everyone she loved were always taken from her.

A firm hand rested against her shoulder, and Charlotte dared to look at her boss’s face, making sure her regret didn’t show. But she couldn’t help her fingers tightening beside her from the golden fabric placed over the elder woman’s shoulders, already feeling the eerie powers manifesting.

“You’ve done well, and now we will move forward with our plans," Nora whispered, drawing her fisted hand in front of her and releasing the unknown object into her palms. "Welcome to the fold."

Charlotte watched her go, the chain scraping against her skin as she stood alone in the dim light. She sighed, letting her steel eyes linger on the Templar cross sinfully shining underneath the flame.

 

The dungeon was the most horrible place he could ever imagine being trapped in; the smell was foul enough to make his eyes water and mouth gag, and not to mention the uncomfortable sleeping arrangement. The bench was rickety, making loud noises whenever he shifted only an inch while he dozed off, and his back ached from laying in one position. He had angrily beat at the hard surface, shrugging himself off the bench when he finally couldn’t take it anymore.

Now, Jacob sat on the cold ground with his back against the wall, mulling over his time spent in the vault. It had been severely painful trying to defeat Starrick—he still had the faint hand marks on his neck from the choke-hold—yet nothing made him hollow inside than witnessing _her_ betrayal once Nora revealed everything to him. If he had to choose one over the other, he would rather have Starrick choke him to death all over again than seeing the truth in her light eyes.

Why did she do it?

From the times he’s spent with her, and also watching her from a distance so as to respect her privacy with her friends, the male assassin knew without a doubt that there was good in her heart. Charlotte always looked out for her friends with the utmost care she can provide for them; she protected them with her own life, even taking their beatings until he surely thought she would die, though the young woman held out strong.

She may be in control of her feelings, and she may be closed off from everyone, but that didn’t mean she was a callous person like his father. No, definitely nothing like the hypocrite who only brought misery and heartache into his life.

And as he slowly started to understand her more, Jacob knew the one thing that defined her most of all: self-sacrifice. Charlotte never once considered about her happiness, instead choosing to head down the dark road while making sure the others were saved, constantly throwing them away from the devil’s course. She wasn’t a selfish person, yet a part of him wished she was.

What horrors did she face that made her indifferent towards her own survival? Why bring herself down and work alongside Nora when she could’ve helped him free London from oppression?

_Dammit, why can’t you tell me?_

He titled his head back against the stone wall, shaking all thoughts of the dark-haired woman away from his mind and instead visualizing the faces of his friends.

When he had woken up from the sleeping dart’s effect, Jacob found himself to be alone in this crummy cell while his comrades were being held captive above ground. No one was here to give him company, double checking the other empty cells all around him in confirmation. He hoped Clara was somewhere within the mansion, making a promise to himself to locate her if he ever got the chance to escape. As for Henry and Evie, the younger twin prayed they weren’t being tortured by Nora, and the vulnerability of not being able to assist his friends ate away at his heart.

“Funny,” Jacob muttered to himself, lightly tracing over his chest. “Now I know how you feel.”

The jingling sound of keys had his eyes curiously watch over the guard fumbling with the lock, restraining a grin from etching across his face as the man fumed from the struggle. He gingerly placed his hands behind his head, cheekily smiling when the middle-aged man grunted from the massive weight.

Jacob couldn’t help himself, his lips already moving without thought. “Need help with that?”

“Be quiet, filth!” The guard grunted, squatting on the ground as he tried pushing the iron door aside.

 _Wonder how long he’ll take before realizing he has to pull the door open, not push._ Jacob scoffed, pleased to find some amusement in this desolate place, though the smile was slapped off his face when Charlotte silently bounded by the guard’s side. He watched her shove the man aside with a firm hand, pulling the door open with ease.

“Right . . .” the guard replied after a moment’s silence, snatching the keys from the slot and awkwardly adjusting his uniform with a red face. “Y-you want me to stand guard?”

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied. “Give me ten minutes alone with him.”

The younger twin could only swallow when the scrawny man immediately retreated back upstairs, thus leaving him alone with the one person he didn’t want to see at the moment. How could he stand being in here for ten whole minutes with her? What would he even say? It was agonizing just thinking about her treacherous lies, yet all anger aside he wanted to understand why she followed Nora’s wishes.

He shifted around the steps with his elbows on his knees, watching her come closer with her arms hidden behind her. “Here to gloat?”

“No.”

Hazel eyes cautiously glanced at what was behind her back, hesitantly moving to the right so she could have room to sit next to him. When the Scottish woman procured a beer bottle from her hiding spot, the young man instantly chuckled. “Never thought I’d live to see the day you would let loose with ale, love. Must be desperate.”

“It’s not for me,” she bluntly replied, calmly handing him the cool beverage in his large hands.

Jacob widely grinned, holding up the bottle as if it was a golden treasure. “If you’re trying to win me over, it’s working.”

Charlotte sighed, crossing her arms over her chest while simultaneously sinking back against the cool wall. “I just thought you could quench your thirst. If you don’t want it—”

“Who said anything of the sort?” He popped the cap open, watching it cling onto the floor before hastily letting the dark amber liquid flow down his throat. Jacob wiped at his moist mouth, casting glances at the silent woman next to him, noticing how she refused to meet his eye. “Something wrong?”

“. . . Nothing.”

They stayed silent for what seemed like a lifetime to Jacob, using the alcohol as a distraction from the uncomfortable setting. Any kind of small talk he tried making with her immediately ceased, for his lovely companion refused to acknowledge him and instead continued staring at the floor in front of her. By the time he finished draining his drink, the male assassin carelessly threw it aside as it rolled away from them.

_How long have we been here? Must've felt like five minutes have passed, maybe more._

“ . . . She’s planning your execution,” her low voice cut through his thoughts, sitting up straight from her sudden words. “Tomorrow, you and your friends will perish. I never got the chance to apologize for my actions.”

His mouth was set in a thin line, abruptly patting his hand on her knee. She tensed from the physical contact, though that didn’t stop him from moving closer to her until their elbows touched. He gently steered her chin towards him, trying to search through her tired eyes, observing the red pendant peeking from the collar of her shirt. “Why did you do it, love?”

“I was loyal,” she truthfully stated, gulping when he slowly stroked her skin before taking out the Templar cross. He was far too close, briefly remembering their night together as her skin heated from memory. Her fingers firmly pressed onto his broad chest, slightly pushing him away once their eyes met. “Nora was the one who found me many years ago, and for that I feel indebted to her. I promised myself to never look back, protecting my friends the best I could when I had given up myself. To be honest, I had doubts concerning her methods, yet I was afraid to act out because I kept worrying over all of them; what she would do to my friends I didn’t want to think about. They’re the only family I have left.”

“I’m sorry. I still believe you can make things right. Nothing is ever too late,” was all he said, letting the chilly air surround them in silence.

He wished time would stand still so he could be able to know more about the Scottish woman; he had tried asking about her childhood life, not pressuring her into revealing anything she didn’t want to. Charlotte remained mute in thought, though Jacob sat at the edge of his seat when her lips began to move, only to be disrupted by the guard from before.

“Don’t cause too much trouble,” the raven-haired woman stated, rising from her spot. She narrowed her eyes when his hand latched onto her wrist, questioning his odd behavior. “Jacob—”

The young twin hoisted himself up, invading her personal space just as the sound of keys clanking together sounded in his ears. “I might not make it alive tomorrow,” he whispered, holding onto her shoulders. “A quick kiss goodbye?”

Charlotte’s ears perked up from the curses coming from behind them, roughly grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt until their noses touched. “They’re being held inside the drawing room just up these stairs.”

He blinked. “Wha—”

Anything else he was going to say was instantly cut off by her soft lips planted against his mouth, groaning from the initiated kiss. His eyes widened when her fingers dragged him closer to her body and dug inside his coat, her tongue instantly plunging into his mouth. His mind grew hazy from her teasing strokes, tugging onto her black locks while they panted against one another. If he had known how dominate she was, he would’ve happily complied with her being in control when they were in the bedroom.

“Hey, hands off her!” The guard shouted, coming into the cell with a baton in hand.

Before Jacob could lay a hand on him, Charlotte had shoved him away from her, wiping at her swollen mouth with the back of her arm. He blinked from the sudden coldness radiating off of her icy eyes, not understanding what was happening. Then again, he never knew anything that went through her head anyway.

Charlotte reassured the guard, allowing him to step outside the cell so she had room to leave. She turned around in place, knowingly eyeing the male assassin still dazed from their kiss. “Don’t bother following me.”

He cringed from the loud slam of the cell door, glaring back at the guard who frowned at him before sitting in his chair. As soon as her footsteps padded back up the stairs, Jacob plopped back down onto the step, missing her company already. He wasn’t going to rot in this cell, that he made sure of, but what can he do now without his weapons?

He cursed to himself when something sharp pierced his side, gloved hands reaching inside his coat to lightly graze the edge of the knife. A wide grin stretched across his face, silently taking the weapon out and rotating it around to make sure it was real, and that his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Hearing the soft snore from the guard, Jacob could only grin to himself as he quietly strode over to the cell door with the blade coolly resting against his side.

_Thank you, love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!!! :D
> 
> Have a Happy New Years everyone!


	12. Chapter 12

Broken shards scattered across the cobblestones, newspapers flying around the barren streets in a flurry dance. Everything was pitch black, and no amount of light illuminated from inside the empty shops as the thugs paraded the city with victorious grins on their mangy faces. Their weapons were slung over their broad shoulders, eyes expectantly searching every corner for any signs of movement coming from the shadows. The people all retreated inside the confines of their homes where it was safe, hiding their forms away from the glass panes whenever a convict looked their way.

She stared out from the high window, wincing from the drawn curtain when a teenage boy was shoved out from his hiding place behind the trash cans. Hearing the boy’s loud scream ringing in her ears as they sliced his throat felt nauseating, and the red-head immediately moved away with a mournful expression. Her body swayed to the side, trying to steady herself by using the table as leverage. “This is madness,” she hoarsely whispered, arms protectively holding her midsection. “What ‘ave we done?”

Gregory gently led her towards an antique chair, feeling the heat radiate from her back. “There’s nothing left to do. Nora won; it’s what we’ve wanted all along . . .”

Emily swallowed, fingers digging into her sides while she listened to the sinister laughters that consumed her thoughts. She willed away the image of the young boy’s innocent face and the blood staining his clothes, fighting the bile from rising in her throat.  “No, ye wrong. She tricked us; she told us nothin’ ‘bout the killings. It’s like Nora doesn’t care for our cause anymore . . .”

The young man bit his tongue, loathing the way she had obviously pointed out the one thing that was right before their eyes, yet they couldn’t do a thing about it. It made him feel useless; they should be the ones spreading forth their Templar codes and bring about change, but none of that seemed to matter now that everyone was dead. They were no longer a unifying force, and he reminded himself that this was reality.

With Starrick and the other Templars, they might’ve done horrendous deeds along the way while risking considerable lives, but they held London together without the loss of so many casualties; they actually cared about their beloved city despite their unorthodox methods.  Now, everyone who even stepped a foot outside of their dwellings were immediately slaughtered, and for what?

All of this was just to fuel the madwoman’s sadistic desires, for the greed took full control of her mind and made her an indomitable force, and he feared it would only get worse from here on out. Soon, Nora would crave for more, and it won’t be long until she went after the queen or the entire world for that matter. He hadn’t seen Nora since the incident in the vault—no one had seen her as a matter of fact—and the thought of her executing another takeover unnerved him.

_Whatever she’s planning, it won’t end well._

His ears perked up from the sound of footsteps coming from the corridor, half-expecting Nora to magically reappear after isolating herself from them. His nerves slightly eased a bit when his raven-haired friend calmly walked through the open doorway, yet the way she strolled into the room with hurried steps told him that something had happened. Looking at her grim expression returned the foreboding feelings he tried banishing from his head, pondering over what she could’ve done in the last ten minutes or so.

The young man arm detached his arm from Emily’s back, making his way over to the tall woman. “Charlotte, where were you? What’s wrong?”

“There isn’t much time,” she lowly replied, ignoring his questions while scanning every inch of the room. “Everything is already set in motion. Once Nora gets back, we steal the Shroud from her and return it to its rightful place.”

“Ye mad? If she finds out ‘bout this, we’ll be killed!” The red-head seethed, rising up from her chair to advance on her. “She has an army, what do we 'ave? We can’t stay ‘ere in hidin’—”

“We’re not.” Her gunmetal eyes pointedly landed on the red-head, effectively cutting her off as the pregnant silence filled the room. “We’re leaving London. Forever.”

A raven shrilled in the night sky, flapping its elegant wings until it soared beyond the dark masses, looking down at the bloodshed on the streets. No one had moved after she uttered those words, the full impact of finally abandoning the city still weighed immensely in their minds. They would leave far away from here and never look back, and the artifact wouldn’t be disturbed ever again once it was returned to the vault.

Everything would be as it should be.

Gregory shifted in his spot, anxiously glancing between the two. “I couldn’t agree with you more; I’m ready if you two are. What about the others?”

“I’ve already handled that. In a few moments, Jacob will free his friends from the drawing room. Hopefully it will give us enough time to escape with the Shroud before they find us.”

Their conversation ceased once Nora and her men bounded into the room, their feet trudging over the carpet while locking their gazes on the trio huddled closely together. Just seeing the golden fabric atop her shoulders sent shivers down their spines, the majestic object just within their reach. But they had to time this properly, or else none of them would survive through all of this.

She crookedly grinned, sauntering over to the window without sparing them a glance. A hearty chuckle escaped past her lips, eyes glinting in the reflected glass as she continued gazing below at her handiwork. “Just perfect. Everything is as it should be. Although, something is missing . . .”

“W-what would that be?” Emily stammered, fingers shaking within the fabric of her dress in nervousness. Her head was bent low, and she mentally cursed to herself for sounding so scared around the woman. The conversation with her friends still remained fresh in her mind, and the red-head wasn’t a good liar like her other comrades; she could just anticipate herself screwing up right this moment.

She cringed from Nora’s stern gaze, gulping as her boss peered closer at her pale face. The elder woman’s pounding steps sent her heart hammering a hundred beats per second, her breath hitching in her throat when Nora faintly patted her shoulder.

“Emily,” the older woman crooned, grasping onto her in a vice grip that made the poor girl cry out in shock. “You seem distressed. Not hiding anything from me, are you?”

A sudden coldness surrounded everyone in the room from Nora’s sly words, their bodies rooted in place from the thick tension. Her hands clenched beside her, focusing on the quivering red-head being subjected to Nora’s devious games. From the corners of her eyes, she saw Gregory having trouble restraining his anger, already seeing his knuckles turning white. The henchmen coyly touched the hilt of their knives, suspecting something was about to unfold in this very room, and she prayed the Irishwoman wouldn’t squeal when they were so close to redeeming themselves. _Don’t ruin this for us, Emily. Stay strong_.

The Irishwoman breathed, somehow finding the courage to gaze into Nora’s dark orbs. “Ne’er,” she softly whispered.

“Excellent.” Her nails left the young girl’s shoulder, knowingly pacing around them in circles. She nodded towards her henchmen, grinning when their rough hands gripped onto the Scottish woman’s forearms. “It has come to my attention that you visited the prisoner, Ms. Faulkner. Care to tell us why?”

“Just wanted to inform him of his untimely death. He has the right to know,” she smoothly replied.

Nora only nodded, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the edge of the table. Her dark eyes roamed over her face, trying to discern any pretense through the cold exterior. “You can’t lie to me, Charlotte. I trained you myself when I brought you into the fold,” she hoarsely replied, gesturing towards the back of the room. “Don't deny it; you've changed after the riot. And I had such high hopes for you. Let’s find out how much your loyalty is to me, shall we?”

Her palms grew sweaty from hearing Milly’s strangled cries erupting throughout the room, the blonde girl being shoved against the older woman with her hands tied behind her back. Her sapphire eyes locked gazes with her older friend, her small body attempting to reach her only to be tugged back by Nora. Charlotte’s vision blinded in anger from Nora’s cackle as she struggled from the men’s hold, though they managed to root her in place.

Another girl was pushed into the center of the room, this time held by another thug. The girl’s dress was in tatters, dirt and filth coating the lovely green material. The raven-haired woman couldn’t recognize her at first, but seeing the familiar chocolate eyes beyond the dirtied face sent a shiver prickling down her spine.

_That’s not possible._

What was Clara doing standing in front of her? She was supposed to be with her friends downstairs where it was safe; this only complicated things even further, and she had no intention of meeting either one of them after she killed Nora and left town. Her plan started crumbling bit by bit, although she wasn’t going to be deterred by this single act. There had to be another way . . .

She silently watched as Nora trade places with the girls so that Clara was now in her possession, and Milly was stuck with the man’s meaty arm around her frail neck. The female warrior felt her friends shaking behind her, their eyes practically boring into her soul.

Nora chuckled, throwing her gun into Charlotte’s palm. “A life for a life. You will shoot this little _brat_ ,” she spat, forcibly weaving her fingers through Clara’s scalp, causing the teenager to whimper from the pain. “And I’ll know that vermin hasn’t corrupted your mind. Choose carefully, for one of them will die tonight.”

Just holding onto the crazed woman’s gun felt vile, as if all of Nora’s malicious intents were surging from the metallic object and into her veins. She breathed, fighting the temptation the weapon held over her while closing her eyes. His words still etched across her mind, whispering in her ears promises of a better life while combating Nora's wicked lies. Charlotte grasped onto them, allowing herself to follow the light’s path, something she should have done long ago before being introduced to Nora. She wouldn’t allow any more suffering to befall on the innocent, especially towards the ones closest to her.

_This has to end._

Snapping her eyes into slits, her fingers flexed over the trigger until the sound of a gunshot echoed within the room. She watched the bullet slice through the air, relishing on Nora’s guttural shout as her body collapsed onto the floor with a hand over her eye. No more bullets clicked inside the gun, and Charlotte easily discarded the horrid weapon towards the far end of the room where it wouldn’t impair her judgment.

“Boss!”

Charlotte gestured for Gregory to grab the girls once the henchmen stupidly released them, sighing in relief when Milly’s bonds came undone. She watched Clara nervously hiding behind the couch, the girl’s wide eyes peeking over the cushions with shaking hands. Without hesitation, her fingers deftly grabbed onto her knives hidden within her coat, releasing them into the air so that they lodged into the men’s backsides. Her eyes narrowed from the blood flaking over their clothes, seeing one of them rise with trembling knees.

The Scottish woman rushed forward after he withdrew the metallic blade from his back, ignoring the persistent banging in her skull. The buff man to her right growled, sluggishly swinging the knife over her head only to miss her by a few inches. Her leg swept underneath him, knocking him out with her knee before taking hold of the knife’s hilt. She hadn’t forgotten the other thug in the room, raising the weapon above her eyes to clash against the blade swinging down over her head. She gritted her teeth, exerting all her energy to steer him back as both knives grinded together.

Nora hissed next to the corpses, hitting her fists onto the carpet while watching the fight before her eyes. The injury over her damaged eye progressively healed, the Shroud hotly glowing over her torso. “I want her dead!”

“Gregory, Emily!” Charlotte shouted, pouncing back so the heavy convict could tumble onto the floor. She slammed the knife into his neck, digging it deeper until she heard his spine crack from the intense pressure.

Both friends grabbed onto Nora’s arms, their feet straining to remain on the carpet as the gang leader thrashed underneath them. The red-head anxiously lifted the golden fabric off her shoulders, releasing a startled gasp when the woman’s fist collided with her face. She skimmed over the area, making sure nothing was broken, though her tongue lapped at the blood fluidly sliding down her chin.

Meanwhile, Gregory clenched his teeth in frustration, his large hands caging Nora’s shoulders and roughly slamming her head onto the table. His eyes raged over, looking behind him to view Emily’s wound before pressing Nora deeper into the furniture. “Charlotte, give me the knife.”

The raven-haired woman obeyed, tossing the stained weapon into his palm. Her head suddenly reared towards the back of the room, cursing as more henchmen vacated the spacious area. “Gregory!”

A bullet knocked the knife out of the blonde man’s grasp, causing him to shout out from the abrupt action when he was so close to butchering Nora. He dodged the men coming towards him, hating the way his hands were freed from Nora’s neck. “Next time,” he hoarsely replied, grabbing a cowering Milly and rushing around his enemies.

Disarming the criminal closest to her, Charlotte loaded the gun with more bullets she snatched from his pouch before open-firing at his chest. She continued shooting the other goons protecting a defenseless Nora until no more bullets remained, sighing in disbelief. The Scottish woman harshly slammed the end of the gun against a man’s head, sending him crashing onto the floor in a daze.

She lingered onto the window in the far end of the room, an idea forming in her mind as more footsteps resonated from the staircase, fearing more men coming their way. “Stay close behind me. And make sure you have the Shroud, Emily.”

“Don't just stand there, after them!” Nora shouted, glowering at her men hurriedly entering through the open doorway.

The tall woman put the minuscule weapon away, feeling the indent of the gun sinfully tracing her side while she rammed into a confused thug, her friends following in pursuit. His shocked screams didn’t ruin her chances in using him as a shield, instead pumping her legs closer to the window until she heard the distinct sound of glass giving way to the powerful force. She buried her face within his broad chest, the glass particles piercing through his skin and cascading over her black hair as they plummeted towards the earth.

Kicking his limp body away from her, Charlotte let herself to continue falling several feet from the mansion window before rolling over the lawn, letting out a grunt from the impact. She peered behind to see her comrades mimicking her action, all three of them landing just a few feet away. Her icy eyes examined Milly’s huddled frame against Gregory’s chest, then she looked over at Emily with the golden object over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

Labored pants resounded over their ears while their legs rapidly ran across the hushed night, finding their way through the labyrinth of the city. The lights from the street lamps flickered hotly as their shadows sporadically ghosted over the brick walls. Everywhere they ran the darkness only stalked them, seemingly wanting to consume them whole until nothing remained.

Running as far away from the mansion as possible, they never once bothered looking back to see if Nora was tracking them down. Their skins crawled from the woman's ferocious cries blanketing the city, hearing her bark orders at her men casually patrolling the streets. Out of nowhere, various gunshot noises came out of the room, their thoughts curiously wondering what was going on inside the mansion.

They all curtly turned around just as they were catching their breaths, their hands pressed against their heaving sides. Flashes of bright light sparked from the shattered window, an animalistic howl roaring in the air until all was silent.

Charlotte lightly swallowed, believing Jacob and his friends have successfully reached Nora and ended her life. They would’ve realized the Shroud was missing from Clara right about now, though the little barmaid had no clue of their intent in returning the magical clothing; it wouldn’t be long until they managed to combine the pieces together.

The vault was several miles away from here, and the clock was ticking.  _We have to hurry_.

“Charlotte!” Milly screamed from Gregory’s coat, pointing at the dark silhouettes several blocks away.

The raven-haired woman noticed them too, her body already moving towards the lone carriage by the curb. She gestured for them to follow while her feet were perched on the thorough brace, but before she could hoist herself up her vision blinded. Her body was shutting down one by one as the numbness took over, her mouth unexpectantly growing dry and her hands clamping over the sterile rails.

If it wasn’t for the firm hand gripping her lower back, Charlotte knew she would’ve fainted onto the slippery road. She thanked Gregory for his assistance, feebly seating herself on the driver seat and holding a hand against her sweaty forehead. The horses in front of her looked like specks of brown images, and she blinked several times to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.

Gregory noticed her distress, sitting next to her and taking the reins. “Are you okay? You look about ready to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” she reassured him, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves. “Just a rush, that’s all. We need to keep moving.”

The reins aggressively slapped against her arms, and the hooves hitting against the cobblestones didn’t help alleviate the pain in her skull. If she wasn’t so concerned over the Shroud she would’ve told Gregory to ease up a bit, hating the nauseating sensation rocking them down the streets, but time was of the essence. So she held the bitterness down, instead retracting the gun hidden in her belt and firing at the thugs on the rooftops.

The wheel spokes kept rotating across the sodden stones, the horses neighing over the noise as they ventured across town in break-neck speed. The dark-haired woman turned around in her seat, letting the pistol settle in the palm of her hand so she could discharge more bullets at the men. No matter how many she shot, about a dozen more magically appeared in place of one fallen body.

Charlotte sighed in exhaustion, never having been this overwhelmed before. “How much further?”

“We still have more to go. As soon as we cross this bridge—”

Something solid collided with the side of the carriage, making the two groan from the crashing motion. Their vehicle dangerously tipped to the side until it scraped against the side of the bridge, both desperately trying to clasp onto the seat below them. Her boots dug into the floorboard in front of her, instantly grasping onto Gregory’s sleeve and hauling him close to her before his head could ram into a street-lamp. Steel blue eyes narrowed at the goons perched on the stagecoach beside them, their large hands readying their own weapons.

She took the reins from male friend, jerking the horses towards the right side. The men’s carriage jumped in the air along with their weapons from the sudden jolt, both criminals trying to catch the guns in only to hiss from their futile effort, the objects laying forgotten on the road.

The Scottish woman leaped to the other side, tackling one of them on the seat after striking her leg out and sending the other one flying off the carriage. She bit her lower lip, applying more pressure against his thick neck while watching his face turn purple. Her leg held his chest down to prevent him from gaining an advantage, trying to stay in position from the incessant movement of the carriage.

Gregory watched from afar, moving his field of vision at the sniper on the roof. He wildly turned back at his companion, screaming out to her as their carriage separated. “Charlotte!”

Her fingers eased up from the choke-hold once the man fell limp beneath her, diverting her attention towards the blonde man in confusion. Her heart stilled from the explosion just above them; her fingers roamed over her attire to make sure she wasn’t hit, releasing a sigh when she found nothing amiss. She squinted at the thick smoke on the roof, tracing the outline of the person’s body through the fog. Her mouth grew dry from acknowledging the man’s shadow as he delivered brutal punches, already knowing too well who the unknown stranger was.

_Jacob._

How was he able to catch up with them so quickly? Wasn’t he at the mansion not too long ago?

“The rope launcher,” she reasoned, finding it the only plausible explanation. She had only witnessed the device’s uses a few times in the order from a fellow associate, although the British gangster had pick-pocketed the weapon for his own during one of the gang riots. He must’ve manipulated another route after they left, for they hadn’t seen him flying through the air when they were riding through town.

The raven-haired woman jumped back onto her carriage once Gregory was at a safe distance, never taking her eyes off of Jacob’s form as she slumped down next to the blonde man. “If he’s here, then the others aren’t far behind,” she shouted through the pounding of hooves.

Gregory’s mouth was set in a thin line, picking up the pace while the wind slapped against their faces. “And we have more company . . .”

From far away she distinguished the masculine bodies all lined together like one giant blockade, and the closer the stagecoach trampled onward the more her skin crawled from the wicked grins on their feral faces. Charlotte could visualize Nora’s devious smirk embedded in every one of them, feeling her blood hotly burning through her clothes. Even if the maniac was dead, there were still her followers that needed to be pulled down to the pits of hell until they never see the light of day ever again.

“Charlotte,” Gregory warned, never letting go of the reins.

“. . . Keep going.”

His eyes widened, nervously roaming his tongue over his lower lip. “Beg your pardon?”

“Trust me,” she demanded. Her sweaty palms cocked the gun in her hand, aiming the weapon out on her targets just as a faint whistle vibrated in the air.

Their line of defense broke apart the minute the thug standing in the middle detached himself from the group, charging with his raised fist and the knife glinting beside him. All of his brethrens immediately imitated him, brandishing their sharp weapons out of intimidation. But she wasn’t going down without a fight; she will succeed in returning the artifact back to its rightful place whether she died trying or not.

What she hadn’t expected was for several men and women dressed in the gaudy green and yellow styled clothing to emerge from the alleyways, all armed and ready to partake in the violence.

Dark clouds rumbled overhead, white flares of lighting clawing their way through the layers of grey as the rumbling noise lessened the shrill cries below. Raindrops pelted the streets in delicate touches until it intensified in seconds, drenching everyone to the bones with their pointed needles piercing through their flesh.

Countless men and women savagely slit each other’s throats, barricading one another so that there wasn’t any room left for fleeing. Blades were shoved through their backs, bloodied hands trying to deliver one final blow before falling limp onto the crowded streets. The horses fearfully stopped amidst the chaos, frightened by the thugs tugging on their reins with brute power.

Both of them tried their best in ridding the evil populace, but soon more started pushing against the carriage using their brawny arms. With a prolonged groan, the carriage toppled over and sent Charlotte and Gregory crashing onto the cold ground.

Her black hair clung to her skin, arms staggering herself upright as she tried standing on shaking knees. She gritted her teeth from the combined pain and numbness rocketing up her body, limping towards the compartment with the rain down-pouring all over the flooded streets. Her hands hastily pried open the door, gently grabbing Milly and Emily out from the confined space. “Anyone hurt?”

“We’re fine,” Emily said, gasping at something behind the tall woman. “Look out!”

A thick kitchen knife clanked against the wooden surface of the carriage just as Emily pushed Charlotte out of the way. The red-head paled when blood trickled down her cheek, her finger lightly touching the scarred area before gazing at the object next to her. She whimpered from the stinging sensation, deathly gripping Charlotte’s arm as the oppressor advanced on them.

In the blink of an eye, Gregory appeared in front of them, madly punching the lights out of the man with one swing. His eyes raged at the unconscious body before him, absentmindedly bashing his face in with his foot before peering at them in alarm. “Okay?”

“I see you’re improving,” Charlotte commented, patting his back in appreciation.

“Well, I’ve had a great teacher.” His blonde curls fell over his eyes when he turned his head, thickly swallowing at the amount of violence spewing onto the area. His fingers immediately took the golden material from Emily, placing it over his shoulder. “Hurry!”

Charlotte allowed the Irishwoman to walk in front of her with Milly secured over the red-head’s hip, silently killing any approaching enemies attempting to dissuade them from their goal. Her toned arms brusquely pushed a couple thugs to the ground, making it all the more easier for the Rooks to dismember their limbs from their vulnerability. While making their way through the hoard, she thought she heard her name being shouted across the battlefield. Her damp locks messily flew past her shoulders as she turned around, trying to see past the dozens of bodies piled on one another until her eyes landed on the male assassin several yards away.

_No, that’s not possible._

Hadn’t she specifically told him not to follow her? The Scottish woman refused to be swayed by his calls, pretending the rain had clouded her sense of hearing. She swiftly snuck through the crowd, urging her associates to increase in their deliberate steps. She was thankful that they never questioned her odd behavior, not particularly in the mood to explain in the middle of a war. “Whatever you do, keep moving,” she yelled, hands shoving Emily forward.

“Charlotte!”

Her feet halted from his desperate shout, spotting his black trench coat throughout the vibrant colors of his gang. She mutely watched him skewer every last criminal who dared lay a hand on his minions, his hidden blades shining from the lightning streaks in the sky. Even his sister had joined the fight, the older twin combining her skills with her twin to trample Nora’s men into submission, manipulating every gadget at their disposal.

Time seemed to stand still when his hazel eyes landed on her, all background noises lost within the void. The intensity of his gaze only made her want to recede within herself, fully reminded of all the times he's used that same look to melt her defenses; she didn’t want to think about the evident hope shining past his irises. No words were spoken, yet it was clear past his pained expression that he didn’t want her to leave. _I’m sorry_.

“Hey, wh—”

The female warrior looked away simultaneously when a thug strived to remove the artifact from her distracted companion, but her leg easily kicked his chest into the arms of a few Rook members. She grabbed her friends aside before Jacob’s men could prevent her from leaving, savagely elbowing anyone that stood in her path.

After weaving their way through the crowd, all four of them concealed their forms behind a narrow corridor between the buildings several miles away from the fight. They watched from afar as the bloodshed lessened, the raindrops suddenly receding for what seemed like an eternity. The yellow light behind the moving clouds gradually roamed over the streets, providing warmth to everyone left standing.

Gregory adjusted the Shroud, firmly gripping Charlotte’s shoulder. “The palace is not far from here. I’d say we have at most ten minutes before the fight dies down.”

Emily nodded, tugging his arm close to her. “Then let's hurry!”

She faintly heard them quarreling until the red-head grabbed the small girl and moved away from her, no doubt heading towards the palace with the artifact. Their shoes scraped against the ground beneath them, but Gregory’s large hand remained planted on her shoulder. She reassured him that everything was alright; the Shroud was more important, and once everything was set they could finally depart from town. His ocean eyes worriedly roamed over her stoic expression, almost wanting to ask her again if she was fine being alone, though he only told her to rendezvous back at their old hangout before dashing into the open street.

Rays of light finally dispersed in vast numbers from the dreary sky, drying away the sorrow that lingered in the air. Everyone cautiously stepped out of their thresholds once all of Nora's men were slaughtered, happily skipping around once the damage completely vanished from their proud city. People embraced one another from the aftermath, their eyes full of adoration as they cheered on their valiant heroes.

Charlotte softly smirked, watching the Rooks tightly hugging the twins for their brave efforts. None of them paid any attention to the Scottish woman observing them from the shadows, too caught up in their celebration to remember about her presence or the missing Shroud. Her fingers lightly tapped onto the hard edges of the stone wall, eyes briefly locking onto the unsuspecting twins. “Safe passage,” she murmured to herself, noiselessly moving away from the wall and walking out onto the streets where the young man patiently waited for her.

The warm sun proudly kissed her back in thanks, its bright flames fanning across her damp clothes until it released its arms from around her body, finally setting her free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, just realized how long this was. Oh well XD
> 
> The last chapter will be up soon ;)


	13. Chapter 13

_Two Months Later_

 

Steam rapidly rose from the smokestacks, fogging the glass ceiling above until it turned a faint grey color. The booming roars of the trains blanketed the entire plaza; one by one they ventured out of the station and into the open land where the sun shone down upon them. Various people bustled about the platforms trying to locate their assigned locomotive before it departed, hurriedly handing their suitcases over to the porters and seating themselves inside the compartments.

A pair of luggages slammed down onto the concrete floor beneath them, causing several people to pointedly stare at the immature young woman who trudged into the clearing. A frustrated sigh escaped past the red-head’s lips, shouting back at the moving train while frantically waving her arms about. Her feet absentmindedly pushed past people, untangling the material of her dress from underneath their shoes as she ran.

Seeing the train further recede into the distance, Emily gave up her endeavors, stubbornly stomping her foot in annoyance. “We missed it!”

The blonde man rushed to her side, heavily panting from trying to catch up with the snarky woman. He gave a short snort, holding onto her sagging shoulder as he attempted to catch his breath. “And whose idea was it to stay in bed for another hour?”

“What?” A faint blush coated her cheeks, her face scrunching up at her boyfriend. She instantly swatted his hand away, poking her index finger against his hard chest. “Ye make it sound like it was my fault! We all ‘ad to work extra shifts.”

“Yes, but we managed to prepare for the journey despite the few hours of sleep.” Gregory laughed at her distorted face. He laid a kiss against her forehead to calm her down, squeezing her tense shoulders. “Don’t worry, Emily. We’ll reschedule another one.”

Their heads pivoted towards the sound of boots hitting against the stairs, nervously glancing at one another as soon as their raven-haired friend appeared before them. Her hand held onto Milly’s small one, the blonde girl brightly smiling at them while her pigtails bounced with every step she took. They shrunk away from the woman’s stare, afraid to voice out that they had missed their train. The Scottish woman was all about punctuality, managing her time wisely to make sure everything fell into place, and if she happened to find out that the train left without them . . .

Charlotte narrowed her eyes, fully calculating the way they avoided her gaze. From all the years she has come to know the two, the tall woman knew when they were holding secrets from her; it was obvious how uncomfortable both of them acted around her intimidating aura. Emily’s face would immediately turn pale and she would twirl her fingers within her skirt, and Gregory would look at anywhere but her eyes. _They’re too predictable._

She folded her arms across her chest, the exhaustion evident in her tired eyes. “Gregory . . .”

He cleared his throat, anxiously rubbing his hands together as he glanced at the spot above her eyebrow. “Y-yes, well it seems that we—mostly Emily’s fault, not mine—”

“What do ye mean my fault!?” The red-head interrupted, furiously glaring back at the young man. “If ye ‘ad woken me up—”

“I tried! You kept fighting back and then you threw a shoe at me! I still have the bruise right here.”

The dark-haired woman released a weary sigh, placing a hand over her forehead from their incessant arguing; they were like bothersome children who didn’t know when to quit. The ringing in her ears was unbearable, her nails gripping onto her scalp in annoyance. Even the boisterous noises coming from the trains didn’t help soothe the piercing sensation, instead it only heightened the sensitivity clouding her mind.

Last night had been one of the most grueling nights they’ve ever had; the gang worked both shifts at a local tavern in order to raise enough money to board a train out of London. Their hopes in leaving the city had to be prolonged, for the shops were gradually recovering after the war. Repairments were hard to come by, but eventually the town began to prosper back to its old self again with a bit of assistance from the townsfolk and the Rooks. No one talked about the violence that night when Nora took control; it was too horrific not worth discussing about, and soon the bloodshed had become a distant memory that eventually faded away.

They were extremely cautious in making sure Jacob’s minions weren’t lounging outside their apartment, never anticipating to be discovered anytime soon. For more than two weeks, all four of them remained isolated within the building complex in hiding, not wanting to take the risk in sneaking out when the Rooks were patrolling every corner. Occasionally, they would peer from the drawn curtains at the stark green clothes that contrasted with the somber colors of the citizens, casting knowing looks at one another before moving away from the window.

Once everything died down, Gregory insisted that they seek job opportunities, making sure they all stuck together so they could keep a close eye on one another. Competition was fierce, especially when other people too were looking for a fresh start, but they were determined to find any kind of employment to help raise money for their journey. Fortunately, they were hired a few days later by a kind man who owned his own tavern; he was so impressed by their skills that he recommended they started right away. None of them complained about the low pay, for the lofty atmosphere and the generous customers were all they needed to lift their spirits.

_It was tough, but we managed._

“Alright,” Charlotte lowly replied, and her friends clamped their mouths shut. She dug her fingers into the pocket of her coat, withdrawing the signed tickets and handing them to Gregory. “Book us another train, the closest time you can get.”

He nodded, stuffing the flimsy papers inside his pocket before holding onto Emily’s hand. “On it.”

She plopped down on the unoccupied bench after Gregory and Emily departed from her, blankly staring at the massive trains in front of her. The ray of sunlight peeking from the smog-covered glass washed over her face, and she greedily basked in its warmth while staying attuned to the whistles migrating throughout the station. How long had it been since they’ve emerged from their damp apartment and actually paid attention the outside world?

 _Far too long_ , she pondered, briefly closing her eyes. They wouldn’t have to worry about the stuffy atmosphere any longer as soon as they boarded another train towards the countryside. Images of lush pastures and shimmering streams eased her conscious, and she envisioned all the wondrous sounds and aromas that would soon greet them. Charlotte couldn’t wait to return back to nature, feeling a sense of homesickness evade her heart when she was reminded of the highlands.

The young woman jumped in her seat when something aggressively padded against her hip, raising an eyebrow at her small companion. “Milly?”

The ten year old owlishly blinked at the woman, flushing in embarrassment as she procured a white bunny from within her jacket. The creature’s tiny head furrowed out from the flaps of her coat, its cute pink nose scrunching up at the foul air. Her fingers petted the adorable bunny, shyly brushing a golden lock behind her ear. “I found it all alone when we came here. No one wanted her, so I thought she could come along. Can we keep her, please?”

“Sweetheart, you know they don’t allow pets on the train,” Charlotte calmly stated, though seeing the dejected look on the small girl’s cherub face sent guilt coursing through her veins.

No one paid any attention to the furry creature that was in plain sight, and she double-checked to make sure none of the porters were nearby to take the wild animal away. Her hand rubbed against Milly’s tuft of blonde hair, sensing sapphire eyes hopefully looking up at her. “Fine. Be sure to hide her when we board the train.”

Almost two hours have gone by and the entire station was close to being desolate. People exited the station when lunchtime came around, curious eyes gazing at them before heading downstairs. The gang were still patiently waiting for the next train, sometimes getting their hopes up whenever the familiar sound of the engine poured into the plaza. The boredom was too great to bear, so they took turns falling asleep to recover from last night’s episode while at least one of them kept guard of the luggages.

As expected, the next allotted time would be close to three in the afternoon, giving them about an hour left before they would depart. She mentally cursed at Emily for ruining their chances of leaving early, already sick of staying another minute in London. _Next time I’m leaving without her._

The restlessness was beginning to settle upon her as she shuffled in her seat; the unexpected heat wave dancing across the platforms made the tall woman disrobe her coat with shaky fingers. Sweat poured down her exposed neck, bringing a hand over the moist spot to rub at the uncomfortable ache. With Milly softly dozing off against her arm, it was a bit difficult shrugging the item off her body, especially when the little girl’s arm hooked over hers.

Charlotte carefully placed the blonde’s head onto the makeshift pillow she made from her jacket, glancing one more time at her friends before heading down the stairs in silence. She refused to cross the shadow line that separated her from the outside world, her gunmetal eyes anxiously darting all over her surroundings while leaning against the wall next to her.

London appeared a lot more active this time around than when she had joined the Rooks; the atmosphere was calmer now that the Templar threat was extinguished and criminals no longer vacated the streets at night. Everyone passively roamed around without fear of being hassled by the Blighter gangs, casually conversing about menial things like the weather. The Scottish woman never felt prouder than she did at this moment as she mutely watched couples happily holding hands, and small children laughing and chasing each other around.

It was all thanks to Jacob and his men who set about to bring change back into this broken city, offering encouragement to the citizens still shaken by the aftermath. Even if he wasn’t knowledgeable in the things his sister knew about, the one thing that defined his powerful charisma was his unwavering faith in others and how he pushed them to reach past their boundaries.

_I still believe you can make things right._

A chilling sensation crawled down her spine from hearing those words echoing in her thoughts, thinking back to their time together in the dungeon. Her nails clenched into her back from picturing the way he had looked at her with such care, and when he had made an attempt to joke with her she desired for her fist to ram into his face out of pure frustration.

The male assassin shouldn’t be so carefree around her, especially after figuring out her deceitful ways. Charlotte wanted him to lash out at her, anything that would release all of his anger because she fully and wholly deserved it. But Jacob did neither of those things, and she didn’t know if she felt relieved or disappointed.

What was he doing all this time while they planned their escape? Would he still even remember her after she left for good?

As painstaking as it was to recall everything that had transpired, Charlotte instantly knew that she had already given every piece of her soul to him; her mind and body were forever a part of him, and going away would mean leaving fragments of herself behind.

“Charlotte?”

She veered her head at the young man stepping down the steps, abandoning her thoughts about the man on the other side of London. The young woman offered a faint smile in return, moving away from the wall. “I’m fine, Gregory. I just needed some time alone.”

“Trust me, I know when you want to hide in your little dark corner,” he sarcastically replied, his blue-green eyes shining with mirth. “The others were worried when they couldn’t find you, and insisted I tag along. The train just arrived.”

Her heart stilled from hearing the news, suddenly feeling the air surrounding them turn colder. Her ears blocked out all the joyous laughters blanketing the afternoon light, glancing down at her boots in contemplation. She offered no answer, staying focused on the various options laid out in front of her. After all the times they’ve diligently prepared for this, she would’ve expected to feel elated in finally abandoning the city and moving on with her life.

This was what she had always wanted, right? So why didn’t she have the courage to immediately respond back to his statement?

Gregory examined her emotionless face through the black locks cascading over her shoulder. He lightly swallowed, loathing the vacant look migrating over her eyes. “Listen,” he softly whispered, and she instantly pinpointed her gaze onto him. “We can leave some other day if you feel you aren’t ready. Unless—”

Charlotte only shook her head, patting his forearm to silence anything else he had to say. “No. We worked too hard for this; don’t stop on my account.”

“You’re positively sure?”

They watched the sun peak high in the sky, its warm glow covering the tall buildings and extending over the streets to wash away the shadows. The fire scorched over their faces, gently caressing their skins as a mother would in a loving manner to ease the burden away.

“Yes,” the Scottish woman said after some time, knowingly staring at her long-time friend. “Come on, we wouldn’t want to keep the others waiting.”

* * *

“It’s ‘bout time!” The red-head firmly placed her hands over her hips, eyebrows furrowed together when the two silhouettes slowly walked up to her as if they weren’t fazed about the time. She shook her head, feebly struggling with her own luggage. “C’mon, help out!”

“Seems Emily is excited in leaving,” the raven-haired woman dryly commented, gathering her belonging close to her legs.

Gregory laughed, hands deftly grasping onto the handle of Emily’s luggage with ease. He rapidly took Charlotte’s carry-ons and placed them over his shoulder before she could protest, peering back at her confused expression. “I’m taking these; wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.”

The screech coming from behind had all four of them panicking, seeing the narrow train gradually picking up speed across the tracks. It wasn’t supposed to leave this quickly, especially since a porter hadn’t assisted them to relieve all of the heavy weights over their shoulders. Dragging all of their belongings behind them, they willed their legs into sprinting across the platform as their eyes focused on the moving train, hands shoving everyone that stood in their path.

The floor rapidly moved underneath their shoes, their breathing coming out in labored pants. They ignored the faint murmurs washing all around them, not caring for what the others had to say about their inappropriate action—the gang solely trained their attention on the moving carts flying by.

Gregory bit his lower lip, throwing the luggages with a grunt before assisting Emily. He gestured for her to jump onto the connected iron bar in between the large carts, his arms supporting her back so she wouldn’t fall off balance. Once the red-head safely made it towards the luggages perched on the platform of the compartment, the young man then hoisted the ten year old girl into his protective embrace. His hands carefully handed the blonde girl over into Emily’s outstretched hands, sighing in relief when she had successfully caught her.

Emily saw the young man slowing down from the corner of her eyes, gasping as she stared at his disappearing form moving alongside them. “Gregory!”

Her long hair flew in the wind that came into the exposed archway, momentarily shrouding her vision as she weaved herself past the unmoving people. Blue eyes narrowed from the dead end several yards away, never once giving up her chase after the moving locomotive. Her pulse frantically pounded against her skin, and the pressure combined with the heat pouring over her body was exhilarating.

However, all of her energy soon drained in an instant, and the more she dashed across the platform the more she failed to recognize herself slowing down. Charlotte had never lost this amount of energy before, always perfecting her stamina and training until she couldn’t get back up. Her arm clutched at her midsection, feeling the nausea surface along with a sharp kick from her spine. _Not again._

She almost stumbled over her own feet when a hand clamped down over her arm, staring at a disheveled Gregory running at pace with her. Her thoughts wildly mixed together, wondering why on earth he was beside her when he should be on the train with the others.

He examined her pale face, automatically anticipating her about to faint from the intense sensation. Without her consent, Gregory swooped her long legs over his brawny arms, ignoring the surprised shout released from her mouth as he carried her throughout the chase. Ocean eyes widened at the approaching railing, his body sprinting forward and leaping onto the platform of the train before the bars could plunge him several feet towards the ground.

The first thing he noticed was the plush red carpet coating the entire floor beneath his shoes, scanning around the lofty compartment in awe. Gregory has been aboard many trains in his lifetime, yet this one wasn’t the usual train with rows of seats going across horizontally or the windows coming down in a straight line. He squinted at the antique furniture and neatly punctured charts on the wall, suddenly noticing just how small this compartment was in comparison to other train compartments.

Was this the right one?

Heavy stomps diverted the blonde man’s attention towards the Indian man calmly strolling by, the assassin too distracted with his journal to notice either one of them. Gregory faintly cleared his throat, shrugging Charlotte’s trembling frame closer to him as the male looked up with wide eyes. He cringed from the loud sound of ceramic breaking onto the floor, the dark liquid spilling onto the clean carpet in front of him.

It had been too long since the British man could remember the drastic event described to him by the other convicts, embellishing every detail spoken to him about the incident in the vault. If he recalled, the bullet mentioned to him had embedded itself in Henry’s knee, thus temporarily paralyzing the young man. Though glancing down at the white robes, Gregory dully noted that he seemed to be standing upright until he caught the slight wobble trying to conceal itself underneath the layers of clothing.

Henry gaped at the two, blinking several times to be certain his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. “H-how did you two get here?”

Gregory sheepishly smiled, carefully setting the tall woman down on her feet with a supportive arm around her back. “Believe me, we didn’t intend to be here. We assumed this was our train.”

“Henry, why are there luggages—”

Evie paused midway when she glanced upon the familiar faces, realizing that Henry wasn’t alone in the room. She faintly swallowed from the thick tension permeating the sterile air, not expecting to finally find both former Templars several months later. “What’s wrong with Charlotte?” she asked, motioning towards the sick woman laid against his broad chest.

“Just a headache.” Gregory gently led the dizzy woman over to the dark couch, carefully placing her legs over the cushions while her glistening forehead was placed above the armchair. “By any chance, do you have any more tea?”

“Of course,” Henry tersely replied, quietly looking back at his associate before limping away from them.

Meanwhile, the female assassin awkwardly picked up the broken shards off the soiled floor, keeping her head low to avoid them. After picking up the pieces, she discarded them inside a nearby bin, arms grasping onto the wooden table underneath her. She gave a breathy sigh before rounding up on them. “So, where are you headed?”

Gregory shook his head. “That’s confidential. I hope you would understand.”

“My apologies.”

The uncomfortable silence returned, and the two anxiously observed the room in order to forget about this unexpected gathering. He couldn’t really blame her; it was his fault they happened to unknowingly invade their hideout without any proper greeting. They weren’t exactly on good terms either ever since the war, making the whole situation improper.

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, shimmering over the carpet and illuminating Charlotte’s pale skin. Her eyelids drooped, ears perked up to attune to the silence all around her. She could still feel Gregory’s fingers intertwining with hers in comfort over the expanse of her stomach, squeezing it in reassurance. Her hair messily sprawled over her shoulders when she turned her head, generously accepting the teacup thrusted into her palms. Steam rose from the murky liquid, and the Scottish woman groggily thanked the Indian man before sipping every last drop of tea.

After finishing her drink, Charlotte finally viewed her surroundings, from the stained carpet to the dark walls decorated with marked charts. She then gazed at the two assassins, eyes narrowing. “This isn’t our train.”

“No,” Henry agreed. “Just a minor mishap, but we’re more than welcome to take you where you need to be.”

It sounded tempting coming from his lips, although she had no intention of being followed by them. It seemed Gregory had the same thoughts, for his hand tightened over her own in warning. “That won’t be necessary, thank you.”

Evie softly smiled, nodding her head in understanding. “We’ll be just a couple compartments over should you need us. Your friends are safe with Agnes, and we promise to drop you all off at the next station.”

“Thank you,” Gregory genuinely said next to her.

“. . . Jacob is sleeping just behind us,” she added as an afterthought, though her green eyes lingered more on Charlotte. “You may pay him a visit if you like.”

Neither one of them said a word after the Englishwoman walked over to the next compartment. Gregory politely stayed with her until she recovered, though Charlotte told him he could check up on Milly and Emily to make sure none of them were injured. Eventually, after bitterly arguing with her over her health, the blonde man relented, rising up from his spot and leaving her alone on the couch.

Hands dug into the soft material underneath her, her body lifting from the couch. Her feet pulled all of her weight up, groaning from the pain as she twisted her body sideways. She couldn’t stop herself from peering at the open doorway, seeing a bed poking out from the other car. _Wouldn’t hurt to see him._

The raven-haired woman found him comfortably sleeping over the mattress, his exposed torso slithering from the white sheets tossed over his muscular back. His arms cradled a massive pillow, tousled hair framing his face as he slept. Her boots trudged over the carpet, setting a chair out in front of her as she silently observed him.

To her surprise, Jacob hadn’t physically changed the last time she saw him; he still had the same stubble sporting across his jawline, and the innocent look crossing his serene face was still there. _At least some things never change._

She faintly smiled, leaning further into her chair with her arms crossed, though her expression turned serious when he stopped breathing longer than she expected him to. “Jacob . . .”

“Hm?” His hazel eyes instantly landed on the intruder, shooting up from the bed after recognizing the Scottish woman. He didn’t notice the startled look over her face after the covers slipped from his body, revealing a bit more to the eye. “Bloody hell, I thought you were Evie. What’s wrong?”

Charlotte focused on the small painting on the side wall, her skin flushing from his deep chuckle once he realized the source of her uneasiness. She shifted in her seat from hearing the distinct rustle of the sheets, forcing herself to rid his naked form from her mind.

“No need to be ashamed, love. You’ve already seen all of me,” he cheekily replied, picking up the discarded clothes from the floor.

“Good to know your sense of humor is still there.”

Jacob only grinned, slipping his pants over his waist before scooting closer to her. He couldn’t control the way his fingers absentmindedly traced over her thick braid, watching her still from the personal contact. “What are you doing here? Not that I mind.”

“We missed our train,” she coolly stated, keeping her eyes focused on him while he continued his ministrations. “We scheduled another one, but by some weird coincidence we found ourselves here.”

“You’re leaving London?”

Charlotte shivered from the warm breath fanning over her chin, feeling his fingers teasingly padding over her. His sad remark left a lasting impression choking at her heart; so many emotions flooded across her mind, and she couldn’t exactly describe the cause of the burning sensation heating her skin. She hadn’t been this close to the British man since that night in Westminster, and just imagining the night when their exposed fleshes intimately joined together made her ache in longing.

It was inevitable; no matter how far she tried to run, he would always be there for her—he already stolen a part of her. And she discovered that she didn’t mind, not even the slightest bit.

“I don’t know anymore,” the female warrior truthfully answered, the melancholy sparking across her light eyes as she allowed herself to become vulnerable in front of him. “I’ve caused you so much pain that I had thought this was the only solution . . . Nothing could express how truly, deeply sorry I am.”

“. . . You could make it up to me,” Jacob softly whispered against the crook of her neck, inhaling her natural scent of roses. Too long had she been away, and just seeing her back into his life again had opened up the dark cloud that blocked all happiness away. “I want you to stay.”

“Jacob—”

“You are staying,” he sternly grounded out, effectively silencing her. He brushed away the stray lock that threatened to peek out of her braid, warmly placing it behind her ear. “You are staying here with me, and you will tell me all I need to know.”

The moving compartment rattled from the tracks as the train traveled around the city, the furniture slightly moving from the rocking motion. The door to the car kept creaking open, colliding against the wall several times from the hollowing wind. Despite all the noises, nothing could ever break the spell that had them bounded to one another as they gazed into each other’s eyes.

Charlotte could only examine past the haunting color of his eyes, trying to discern any false pretense. But the man before her hadn’t said it with any derision nor sarcasm, and her muscles relaxed immensely.

No more running, no more darkness fighting its way into her life. Never again.

She mutely nodded, sighing as she leaned back to fully view her savior. “What would you like to know?”

“As far back as you can remember.” Jacob patted the empty spot next to him, expectantly watching her reluctantly sitting down on the bed.

The Scottish woman took a moment to ponder over everything in her life, digging through her memories beyond the thick fog. She let his fingers clasp onto her own, feeling him comforting her through the difficult process. Her eyes remained transfixed in front of her until she found one specific memory that altered the course of her life forever.

And so she told him everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Fin~


End file.
